Zenna Vortex: The Shepherd's Daughter
by LA Knight
Summary: When Marzipan realizes she's the one who must free her cursed brothers, she goes to find the Faery of the Silver Orchards, and runs into: wolves, curses, pain, love, loss, enchanted wells, a house made of glass, a missing prince, fairies, magic and myth.
1. 0 Once Upon a Time

**Prologue**

**Once Upon a Time...**

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Once upon a time, a country shepherd boy married a baker's daughter, from the city. The shepherd boy did this, even though his father had arranged a marriage to the woodcutter's daughter two miles away. He fell in love. It couldn't be helped.

Once upon a time, a woodcutter's daughter married a man the devil himself feared, and murdered him. She had a child before she slew her husband - a girl child who drowned in a well, whose name I never learned. To replace her, the woodcutter's daughter stole another child, a boy named Wulf.

Once upon a time, a shepherd's wife carried her youngest child - a plump baby girl in a sling on her mother's back - into the meadow in the forests near their home to harvest wild sage, rosemary, parsley, and thyme. And an unknown man's son walked with his murderous mother and saw the woman cutting the plants on the damp river bank. The evil mother knew at once the shepherd's wife, and rage poisoned her soul when she saw the sleeping infant on her back.

Once upon a time, when I was very young - scarcely able to toddle around without falling on my bottom - my twelve-year-old brother Matthew disappeared in the middle of the night.

Somewhere in that tangle of half-begun tales is where everything started, all the craziness. All the magic. I was only two when Matthew - the oldest of my nine brothers - vanished, so I don't remember it. But one day he just wasn't there anymore. Our father went to wake him up and found his bed empty, his bedroom window wide open. No clothes were missing, no toys, nothing. We were certain he'd been kidnapped, though we had no idea why. After all, we were just a poor sheep-herder's family, with barely any coin to spare for winter clothing, much less a ransom. My family had no enemies that my parents knew of. They could make nothing of it.

And it wasn't even a year later that two more of my brothers disappeared. The twins Henry and Jonathan disappeared in the night, and my parents decided to start keeping a few of the sheep dogs in the yard instead of in the pens to guard the house.

A year later, our dogs were found dead and the other twins, Christopher and Marcus, were gone. My father asked our neighbor's son - the blacksmith's apprentice, a humongous youth with arms bigger around than my head - to guard our home. A year and some months after that, the blacksmith's apprentice broke his leg when a saddle mysteriously fell out of one our windows, and my sixth brother, Jacob, disappeared. My father, desperate to hold onto my three remaining brothers, begged my mother to move into the city. We went to stay with my mother's father, the old baker, and my brother Armand vanished into the darkness.

On a whim, my father decided to visit my aunt, my mother's sister, who worked in the kitchens of the castle - we would stay in the town outside the stronghold itself - and so we left our sheep in the care of our neighbors and journeyed the fifteen miles to the castle township.

My brother David went missing.

I had only one brother left.

Returning home, we were safe for almost two full years before my youngest brother Andrew, now twelve, vanished without a trace.

By this time, I was nearly ten years old. My parents guarded me jealously, for I was their only daughter, and now their only child. And until I was twelve, everything was quiet, peaceful. Still, my parents locked the doors and windows, kept a pack of guard dogs near our home, and refused to let me out after dusk.

It did no good, for when tragedy struck, for the first time it didn't descend on my parents' children.

It came down on my mother, who fell into the well near our small stone house and drowned on my twelfth birthday.

Then, the witch and her son came to our home.

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**Author's Note:** this is a book that incorporates several fairytale motifs in it, and I am trying to get it published. I want to know how people feel about the story. Is it interesting? Do you like it? Would you read it? Would you buy it? Etc. Any tips or critiques you guys have would be greatly appreciated.


	2. 1 A Night of Whispers

**Chapter One**

**A Night of Whispers**

_._

_._

_Three years later...._

"Wolf! Wolf!"

I bolted awake, jerking upright in bed at the scream coming from the sheep pens near our house. I heard the pounding of footsteps downstairs and realized that I hadn't been dreaming and the scream wasn't the playful shriek of Peter, my father's youngest assistant. Rolling out of bed, I stuffed my feet into my leather boots, pulled a jacket on over my shift, and ran downstairs to meet with my father and his lads.

"Margaret!" My father's voice snapped like a whip over my head. I almost didn't acknowledge his rebuke - I hated the name Margaret. "You're not going out, not with a wolf on the farm."

"But, Father-"

"No!"

I growled at him under my breath as I watched three of the four boys he'd hired from the town scramble out the door. I was a shepherd's daughter, and I knew how to watch for wolves - knew better than these foolish boys who hadn't set foot out of the township of Greentree before the age of thirteen. Soft as marshmallow, this lot. But my father refused to let me out of the house after dark. Not after what had happened to my nine brothers. Not after my mother, pregnant with what she was certain would've been a tenth son, drowned in the well at dusk. And since mid of the night had barely passed by, the darkness outside hung heavy against the house, pressing against the doors and windows, locking me in. My father refused to relinquish the keys to my proverbial prison.

Looking around the large room that served as the first floor of our little stone house, I noticed my father's mistress seated before our hearth, staring intently into the flickering flames, ignoring the scream of "Wolf! Help!" She didn't seem to hear the fourth town boy's frightened cries or the snarls and barking of our dogs. She only looked into the fire while she brushed out her long, copper-red hair.

Her name was Lily, and she had murdered my mother. No, I don't mean literally. But the moment she came to our cottage, my mother's spirit, so carefully preserved in my father's heart, was slain.

I ignored her and looked to her left and found her shadow - her son, Wulf. He had come with her when she arrived at our cottage almost three years ago, a half-wild boy with ragged black hair and the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen. He rarely spoke, and the sheep were frightened of him - the reason he wasn't outside chasing off or killing the wolf with the others.

I sat next to Wulf on the bench against the back wall of the house, eying him. He looked troubled, and he kept rubbing the back of his head with one dirty hand. Though his mother forced him to scrub his hands nearly bloody, they still managed to remain almost perpetually grunge-encrusted. Since he was allowed outside - though not anywhere near the sheep pens or the dogs - and I was forced to remain indoors unless on an errand, I didn't know what he did with himself that made him so dirty. It almost seemed as if he did it strictly to defy Lily and her ban on dirt, but I'd never asked him.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered to Wulf. He glanced at me, shrugged. It was easy to talk to him, even with his mother around. The boy my father insisted on calling my brother may not have spoken more than twenty words to me in the three years he'd lived here, but he always listened to what I had to say.

"Do not complain, Margaret," Lily ordered.

"The child can complain as much as she likes about this ridiculous prohibition." The second woman, who came in as my father's mistress chided me, was my Aunt Clarissa, who had moved in with us a week after my mother's death.

I gritted my teeth, half-waved to Wulf, and went back upstairs.

In my bedroom, I threw off my jacket and kicked off my boots before flinging myself onto my bed. Irritation clawed at my throat. Angry words boiled up, wanting out, but I swallowed them down. In the last three years, I'd never been outside except at noon or on mornings so hot and bright the fire faeries would sweat, and even then, only in need, when all the lads were occupied. When I was a little girl, before all of my brothers had disappeared, I had had sheep-watch in the night with the oldest who had been on hand - usually David or Andrew. The sheep were my friends, and it was spring, lambing season. There were helpless lambs out there with what might be a pack of wolves, with nothing to defend them save my father's dogs and the town boys' slings (and their aim was nothing to boast of). I clenched my fists and rolled onto my belly, chewing my lip, thinking furiously.

I jumped up and stripped. Hauling on my thinnest linen breeches, a faded black that was almost gray, and pulling on a loose black shirt, I slid my feet into my dancing shoes.

As a very, very small child, when we'd lived in town for two years in an attempt to protect my brothers, my mother had insisted that I receive dancing lessons. Her father had been a baker, but at one time his mastery in the art of making subtleties had called him to the castle of the King, where he'd met my grandmother, a court dancer. My grandmother had taught my mother to dance, and my mother and Aunt Clarissa had taught me. My aunt had once been a dance instructor in Greentree before moving out to our cottage.

Now, I put on my oldest slippers that still fit to my feet. Though thin, they were light and made my footsteps soundless. So dressed, I got back into bed and closed my eyes, waiting for the sound of my father's return.

Minutes ticked by. Night waned. The frigid darkness of an early spring night deepened until it seemed as if tenebrous fingers scraped at my window, hissing at me to let in the shadows. The dark hated me, and I hated it, but my heart told me the lambs needed someone to protect them. It sounded stupid, but the sheep were our livelihood and wolves had already killed over a score of them since the beginning of the new year. Darkness or none, I would go out there.

Down below, the door burst open, and I heard my father's voice say, "They carried off that little lamb, the runt, and the one with the twisted foot. And Bandit had to be put down."

Tears stung my eyes. Bandit had been my mother's sheep dog. The savagery of the wolves around our home was becoming worse, if one of our dogs had been so badly injured that death was the only recourse.

I heard Aunt Clarissa's gasp of shock, and Lily's indifferent voice. On the stairs, I heard Wulf coming. He had the bedroom opposite mine. My father had moved himself to a pallet before the fire since the third wolf attack in winter. This was not good - I had to sneak past him, unless I wanted to climb down the side of the cottage. I had done so once before, and fallen, spraining an ankle. In the darkness of my room, I waited, snuggling under the covers as if cold, although I was sweating from the heat. My heart pounded in my ears. The boys tramped in and retired to bed. They'd left Peter, the youngest town boy, out in the field. If I knew him, he'd either fall asleep again, or just wouldn't see me. The test was my father. Could I get past him?

Suddenly a shiver went up my spine, and I had the sudden urge to hide under my blankets. The night outside seemed to scream silently at me. My blood turned to ice. What was going on?

Finally, everyone was in bed. Shivering, I got up and crept to my door, quietly opening it a crack to listen for movement downstairs. I heard my father's heavy snoring, and sighed. Opening the door wider, I slipped out and tiptoed to the stairs.

Then I heard her voice.

"Don't encourage that girl." It was Lily. "She's far too wild. I left her too long to her brothers before I came here. I took far too long removing them."

My heart froze. Shocked, I sank to the floor and peered through the rails to see Lily stirring the fire in the hearth, Wulf watching her from his position on the bench. I hadn't heard him come back downstairs. My mind reeled. _I took far too long removing them._ My brothers. Matthew, Henry, Jonathon, Christopher, Marcus, Jacob, Armand, David, and Andrew. She... she had been the one to kidnap them? How? How was that even possible?

I heard a mumbled reply from Wulf, and Lily's knife-edged voice snarled, "Don't be stupid! Of course I kept the shadow cakes. If I destroyed the blasted things, those brats' shadows would simply return to them. I want the shadow - and thus, the spirit - separate from the body long enough for those wretched boys to lose what humanity they might still have. And no, I do not have them here, in this hovel. Any of those wretched sheep boys might devour one and release the spirit within."

My temples were beginning to pound. Shadow cakes? Shadows? Spirits? Separate from the body? I had no idea what she was talking about, but I knew it had something to do with my brothers, and it was very, very bad.

"But, Mother, can't Margaret break the-"

SLAP!

"Do not call me Mother. I am not your mother. I told you, I found you on my doorstep long ago, after your idiot mother presumably died. And yes, Margaret could break the spell, if she knew how. But she doesn't. The little fool knows nothing of anything except sheep, sugar, and dancing shoes."

A hot flush flooded my face. Sheep, sugar, and dancing shoes? I was a shepherd's daughter with a love of dancing, and my mother had taught me as a little girl to make subtleties, though nothing more intricate than a daisy. It was, for all intents and purposes, a parlor trick. Those were the things I was good at. I had no other real skills. I couldn't even read. And so I knew nothing of anything, did I?

Well, this much I knew. There was a spell on my brothers. Lily had cast it, but I could break it. I could bring my brothers back.

Breathing as shallowly as possible, I strained my ears to catch more. I could break the spell, apparently, but I didn't know how. I had to find out.

Suddenly, a buzzing filled my ears and pain lanced my skull. Down below, Lily gasped in outrage. Panic hit my blood like poison, and I pulled away from the edge of the stairs as the woman who had enchanted my brothers opened her mouth to say I knew not what - a spell, a scream, a summoning. But the night was rent with the shriek of "WOLF!!!"

And in the pounding rush of men and dogs and my aunt that followed, I slipped back into my room and fell into my bed, pretending as if I had been there all along.


	3. 2 A Night of Spells

**Chapter Two**

**A Night of Spells**

Dawn light slapped my face, jolting me awake. Somehow, I'd managed to fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning, despite the whirlwind of thoughts howling through my brain. But the moment my eyes snapped open and consciousness returned, my memories of last night returned with it. The revelation, the talk of magic, my near-discovery... had I imagined it all? No, no I hadn't had time to fall back asleep after the first scream of "Wolf!" There was no way that the night before had been a dream.

Lily had kidnapped my brothers. I had to tell my father.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I discarded it. My father doted on Lily, adored her. And what proof did I have? All that I had was an overheard conversation that I shouldn't have been able to hear in the first place because I should have been in bed. If I knew my father, he would focus strictly on the fact that his only daughter had been trying to sneak out in the middle of the night while wolves roamed nearby. And if his temper exploded - which I knew it would - then Lily would hear, and know that it had been me she'd somehow sensed on the stairs last night.

Then what was I to do?

Sighing, I flung myself out of bed and dressed in normal clothes - a white shift, blue skirt, blue vest, and my leather boots. My father made me wear blue often, for protection against evil spirits. My vests were made inside-out, and even my boots could be worn on either foot, because to wear boots on the opposite foot scared certain faeries worse than cold iron. Father did everything he could think of to keep me safe. The jacket I had discarded last night was made of white rabbit's fur, and all my jewelry was made of polished iron instead of silver.

Slipping a necklace around my neck, I went downstairs to breakfast. Wulf and the other boys, except Hans and Peter - Hans being on sheep-watch and Peter being asleep to recover from his own watch - shoveled food into their mouths. My father was already out. Lily sipped daintily at her tea. I grabbed a few rolls and sat beside the fire, pretending I was cold so that I had an excuse to sit far away from the witch who had kidnapped my brothers.

I could barely eat. With every bite, my belly hardened into a knot that ached and pressed against my throat, threatening to choke me. But I knew I had to act as if nothing was wrong, or Lily would suspect me. I had a plan, though. I would wait until dark, until everyone was asleep, and see if she had anything else to say that would perhaps tell me where to find my brothers, the shadow cakes that housed their spirits, or how to break the spell on them. I had a feeling that the shadow cakes, whatever those were, had nothing to do with the curse that had snatched my brothers from our home. It was a separate, added burden.

Managing to consume the rolls and a cup of water, I received permission from my Father to go out and check on the sheep, since Hans, the oldest of the town boys, was outside with the dogs and it was broad daylight.

Out of doors, the sun shone brightly over the treetops. Around our little stone cottage lay a large meadow. We had no crops for selling, but we planted enough to feed ourselves and store food for winter. The stream that ran near our house provided us with fish as well as watercress and mushrooms. I could shoot a bow decently, and could bring down the deer that sometimes came to the edge of the meadow to drink from the stream. Now the sunlight turned the stream to a river of diamond, and the grass all around was a brilliant green like emeralds. And a little ways away, on the little hills near the edge of the woods, were our flocks, and Hans keeping careful watch over them from the vantage point of one of the large rocks that made the hills impossible to adequately farm.

Hans looked my way as I walked toward him, and I waved. While the other three boys - Peter, Jack, and Simon - had almost no sense, Hans was all right. His father had been a woodcutter, and he'd lived in the woods until he was about eight before moving to the city. Now he was nineteen, very serious, and very handsome, with broad shoulders, curly blond hair, and green eyes like peppermint candy. He also hated sweets and so called me Margaret, even though I'd insisted he call me by my nickname - Marzipan. My mother, who loved subtleties and the sweet almond paste they were made from, had named me Margaret after her mother, but when I was a baby had accidentally called me Marzipan once. According to the story, I had laughed like a loon, and the name stuck.

After her death, my father refused to call me Marzipan again.

"Aren't you scared of the wolves?" Hans asked me as I patted the lead ram on the head. "They might come back. Daylight hasn't deterred them yet."

"I wanted to check on the flock," I said as a lamb bleated at me and ran to hide behind its mother.

"What, you don't trust me?"

"City boy," I reminded him. Four years in the city had made him soft, I knew that. Still, I smiled at him until he said, "The Regent is talking about making it illegal to kill wolves."

My eyes widened in my head. Was she insane? The Regent, who had taken control of the kingdom of Kuetas when the Crown Prince and his uncle had disappeared, was a Faerie, but surely even a Faerie would know that wolves were a threat to the humans who lived near or in the forests. Why would she pass such a law? I did a swift headcount of the flocks and realized that since the middle of autumn, when the wolf attacks had begun to come almost every other day, we'd lost almost half of our flock. We had yet to kill any of the wolves, but that was only because my father hadn't been able to catch any. And if killing the predators became a crime....

"How do you know this?"

"My sister sent me a letter. She told me."

Hans' sister, Gretchen, lived in the castle at the capital and worked in the kitchens. Apparently, she made gingerbread that practically sang in your mouth, as if by magic. Hans said she learned it from their step-mother.

"What would be the punishment?"

"The Regent hasn't decided yet," he replied. "But this is bad news for your father."

My heart sank into my toes. I knew he was right. Ever since the Prince's uncle, the last Regent, had disappeared, things had begun to go wrong. Magic had begun to break lose throughout the kingdom, causing strange things to happen, especially near forests or lakes, where magic ran deep in the land anyway. When the Regent had taken over, the magic began to settle - a little. But everyone in Kuetas knew that we needed the Prince back.

"Don't go too close to edges of the field," the town youth commanded me then.

"What?" The only thing bordering our fields was the forest.

"Some of the country girls have disappeared lately. Gretchen told me a couple of the local farmers went to complain to the Provost and the Huntsman to do something. Carried off by wolves, they said."

"Well," I replied, fighting not to visibly shiver in front of Hans. "I can handle wolves. I know how to use a sling better than any of you town lot."

"All the same," Hans replied, still not looking at me.

For a time, there was a tense silence. The hair on my arms stood on end. I thought about what to say but could think of nothing pertinent.

"You should go back inside," Hans said suddenly. I glanced over at him, saw he was staring off into the distance, towards the eastern edge of the woods. The look in his eyes made a shiver creep along my spine. "The woods have grown dark. Send Jack out to me, as well. Tell him to be quick about it."

I ran to the house to do as he said. The expression on his face sent chills through my blood, and I ran faster.

* * *

That night, I waited for everyone who would sleep in the house to settle. My father's snores sounded like music to me. Nervousness sang in my veins. He might be asleep, but was Lily the Witch? And what of Wulf? In fact, that was a good question. What of Wulf? Was he responsible for my brothers' vanishing as well? No, that was impossible - he was only a year older than I. But his mother had cast a spell on my brothers. His mother... but she wasn't his mother. Where did that leave him?

I got up slowly, carefully, and went to the window. A slim crescent hung just above the dark line of the trees. It was just past midnight. Everyone slept... except, perhaps, Lily and Wulf. The witch and the boy I had thought to be her son. Wulf, who I had thought to be my friend....

Opening the door just a crack, I heard frantic whispers, too low for me to make out the words. Swallowing hard, shoving my fear aside, one toe inched into the corridor, slowly, oh so slowly. I could not be caught. Would she kill me? I wasn't sure. She hadn't killed my brothers, but perhaps she hadn't because she had other, more vile things in store for them.

With darkness pressing in around me, I slid to the floor in the doorway before laying myself flat to the ground, desperate to hear and even more desperate not to be seen.

"She doesn't know anything, Moth-"

"Hst!"

"I mean, Lily." That was Wulf. Was he talking about me? "Marzipan has no idea that you turned her brothers into swans," my heart slid into my mouth and I nearly choked on my pulse, "or that you stole their shadows and baked them into cakes. She doesn't know where our old cottage is. She doesn't even know that her brothers are still alive. She's not allowed past the edge of the meadow, and the swans don't come out of the woods."

"This is true," I heard Lily murmur. "The girl doesn't know any of this, as you say. And I don't want to hurt the child. She's my daughter. I _know_ her witch mother stole her from me as an infant, a changeling child. That's what that monster husband of mine found in the well... just a changeling...."

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. A haze was trying to cover my eyes, and a roaring filled my ears. Lily thought I was her child? A changeling... except that I looked like my mother - brown hair like lamb's wool, eyes the color of candied violets, tall, with all my baby fat still intact. Lily was mad. All I could think for a moment was, _She's mad._ Then I sucked in a breath and tried to pay attention to what Wulf was saying.

"How could Marzipan possibly break the spell, anyway, Moth... Lily?"

"Alone, she couldn't."

I heard her stirring something over the hearth and wondered what it was.

"I don't understand," Wulf said softly. I could imagine the confused look on his face, his brow furrowed so that his bushy black eyebrows joined together.

"She has more power than she knows, that girl of mine, but the spell can't be broken by power alone. The Regent, however... the Faerie of the Silver Orchards and the Lady Claire... now, _they_ know how to bend Margaret's power in just the right way to break the spell. Luckily, the Regent isn't at the castle at this moment, and isn't likely to return any time soon. She searches for the Prince, and the heavens only know when he'll come back."

"Searches... where?" There was real curiosity in Wulf's voice that mirrored my own. I had never heard anything of the Regent leaving the castle. Hans had mentioned nothing of _that _this afternoon. Only the law against killing wolves and the missing girls.... And if the Regent could break the curse on my brothers, then all I had to do was find her and ask for her help.

"Mount Scaelos."

As soon as the words were uttered, my heart sank. Mount Scaelos, the Mountain of Dreams. No human could climb that mountain. Only a Faerie or another immortal being - and I didn't know any - could ascend the mountain. The summit lay hidden with the clouds, a long journey up, and the journey to the mountain itself in the heart of the Vryst Mountain Range took more than three years on foot, and the way was full of dangerous things like rat demons, yeti, snow sprites, and white ladies, the vengeful and jealous ghosts of dead girls. There was no way I could get there at all, much less in enough time to save my brothers. Deep in my heart, a still, small voice told me they were running out of time.

"So, the Regent and this Lady Claire knows how to break the spell?"

"Yes, boy," Lily snapped. "Now give me that clump of wolf fur."

_Wolf fur...._ A dark suspicion slithered into my head. Fury began rising in my cheeks, a hot blush. If Lily was a witch... what if she was using the fur to enchant the wolf packs in the forest? What if the attacks were _her_ fault?

"Who is this... this Lady Claire?"

"You've heard of her," Lily grumbled. "Children know her as Madame Éclair, the baker-woman who married the Prince's uncle. People said she cast a love spell on him."

"Did she?"

All that Lily the Witch gave in reply was a snarl. It seemed that my father's mistress had a special hatred for the Lady Claire.

"How did the Regent get to Mount Scaelos? It takes more than three years, even for an immortal like her," Wulf asked. "Mortal or not, travel time is travel time. Was it magic?"

Lily's cackle came out rasping and harsh at the idea of the Regent using magic. I couldn't understand what was so amusing. The Regent was a Faery. Didn't Faeries use magic? Weren't they themselves beings made of magic?

"No, it wasn't magic," Wulf's pretend-mother snapped. "It was petty bribery. She used mortal delicacies to entice the four Winds to carry her to the top of the Mountain of Dreams. Supposedly, a seer lives at the peak, a sorceress of great power and far reaching eye."

"Mortal delicacies? You mean, food?"

"Yes, food. Tea, coffee, chocolate, and peppermint candy."

At these words, my heart leapt. I had a bag of peppermint candy, a gift from my father, and my aunt kept tea in a tin in her room. And my father and the town boys drank coffee! If I could get my hands on chocolate, then perhaps I, too, could bribe the four Winds to carry me to the top of Mount Scaelos. But where would I find the four Winds to speak to them? Only at their sources, and a simple country girl like me, one who'd never even looked at a map, could not possibly find her way there alone.

Again, my hopes plummeted into my toes along with my heart. But still, I listened.

"Lady Claire wants to interfere here, so I must be careful, but I don't think she will come yet. She has no proof that it was I who turned her precious, little Polichinelles into cursed gingerbread cookies."

I had to force myself not to bolt upright. I did not know what Polichinelles were, but the sinister amusement in the witch's voice made me shudder. If Lady Claire, a woman wed to the Prince's uncle, was bothered enough by it to come and investigate, then it could not possibly be anything less than despicable.

"Now, the spell is finished. Go to bed, Wulf. In the morning, I want you to keep an eye on Margaret. Keep her away from that Hans. He's no town boy, or I'm a shepherd's wife."

When the heavy tread of Wulf's big feet sounded on the steps, I hastily scrambled into bed while making as little noise as possible. With my face turned towards the wall opposite the door, the faint crack of light peeking through the doorway was my only indicator of when the older boy stopped in front of my partially open door. Breathing evenly and deeply, there was nothing for me to do but wait for him to go away. At last, his silhouette disappeared, and I breathed a sigh of relief.


	4. 3 Plans for the Journey

**Chapter Three**

**Plans for the Journey**

The next morning was my turn to bring breakfast to the boy in the fields minding the flocks. Dawn had come, and the morning sun beamed cheerily overhead, daring me to come out and have some fun. But I was too tired and too pensive over what I had learned last night to be in the mood for any kind of fun. Instead of skipping merrily along or however the sunshine wanted me to travel, I trudged towards the Watch Rock where Hans perched, his mint green eyes gazing at one of the lambs frisking around its mother.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Blrgh," I replied, and handed him the basket. Inside was my breakfast and his - a waterskin full of fresh milk, a dozen buns with currants and raisins baked in, and two of the winter plums that grew in the forest. Without talking or even speaking a blessing over the food, I tore into one of the buns and wolfed it down in five bites - an amazing feat, for the buns my aunt baked were almost as big as my doubled fist.

"You shouldn't stay up and eavesdrop on people," Hans said in return, and had the decency to pound me on the back when I choked on my bite of bun. I stared at him in shock as he added, "My father once said I had the ears of a cat, the eyes of an owl, and the nose of a wolf. I notice things."

It was then that I realized I had for some inexplicable reason assumed he had the night watch last night. Perhaps because no cry of "wolf!" had come shrieking out of the dark. The wolves seemed to stay away when Hans was on watch, playing his flute or simply gazing absently at the sheep. But no, for he had had the day watch, and no boy, no matter how old, was expected to stay awake all day and all night on my father's farm.

So Hans had been in the house... and known I was awake. Known I was listening to Lily and Wulf. But then, did he know what she had done?

"You need someone who can tell you where the winds are, right?" Hans asked, answering my unasked question. "You plan on going to the Regent for help, don't you?"

After a long, tense eon of silence, "Yes," I whispered in a rush. "I have to. My brothers are in trouble, and time is running out, I can feel it. I don't know how I know this, but I do."

Beside me, Hans sighed.

"I understand. My sister told me the same thing, once. Well, in that case, you and I had better be packed and well away before dusk."

"How? My father always comes to fetch me if I'm not in the house by the time the sky begins to darken."

He winked at me, but would say nothing, only told me to eat my breakfast and go in and pack for a long journey.

* * *

Wulf found me packing.

I suppose I should have been expecting it, because so far everything had gone far too easy. Everything was so simple: I overheard the witch talking about her plans, confided them to a would-be hero, and was getting ready to leave unmolested on a journey to save my brothers. But like in every story, things didn't work that way. Opposition always comes.

In this case, opposition came when the boy whom I'd thought to be my friend and thought until recently to be the witch's son surprised me more than I'd been surprised in a long time.

"I'm going with you," Wulf's voice came from behind me. I whirled around and had to clap my hand over my mouth to stifle the shriek waiting to pour out of it. With pounding heart, I looked up at the scruffy boy who stared at me, eyes challenging.

"Not on your life," I snapped. "Your mother...."

I trailed off, biting my tongue. I couldn't reveal to him that I knew what Lily had done, that I knew about the spell and knew who to go to in order to break it. But again, Wulf surprised me.

"Do you really think I'm as stupid as my mother thinks I am? Did you honestly believe that I don't pay attention to her every word, her every deed, and so I know how to break the spells she has on your brothers? Do you really think I needed to ask? I asked because I knew you were listening."

My blood turned to ice. My heart thundered in my chest until I thought my ribs would crack. There was a savage desperation in Wulf's voice I'd never heard before. Reaching out a hand, I took hold of Wulf's dirty hand.

"You knew I was there."

"Yes."

"And you asked the questions I could not, so I could hear the answers."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because my own mother cursed me, and your father loathes me, but you... you are kind to me. Why would I seek to hurt you?"

"I don't know. That's... that's a good point. But if I take you with us-"

"I swear I won't betray you," the scraggy boy inserted instantly, which told me he'd considered that I would think of this. "I don't know what oath I can give you," he added, and in truth, neither did I, "but I swear I won't betray you to Lily. I hate her. She kidnapped me as a child, and.... She is the only mother I have ever known, and she treats me worse than your family treats your sheep."

Trying to hide my wince, for I had seen this, I pushed back my choppy brown hair. It needed to be cut again, I noticed.

"All right," I replied, looking into his eyes like blue jewels. "But only if Hans is all right with it as well. I don't want there to be any problems between the two of you." Before he could get the protest out of his half-open mouth, I added, "I know how boys are. You both are good lads, and wonderful friends, and I don't want some stupid rivalry screwing up this trip when I have more important things to worry about, like my brothers."

We locked eyes, mine like violets, his like the sky. It seemed an eternity, though it was probably only a few minutes. In the end, it was I who won, and Wulf looked away.

"I will be waiting by the Watch Rock when the Evening Star touches the tops of the trees," I told him. "Be ready."

"I will."


	5. 4 First Steps

**Chapter Four**

**First Steps**

Hans had no problem with Wulf. He had noticed the same things that I had - Lily's casual blows, her constant taunts, the way her eyes brimmed with contempt and Wulf's with grief and hate when his so-called mother looked at him. When I brought Hans his midday meal out in the field and told him everything about the shaggy-haired boy, the town boy merely shrugged and said, "It's your quest, Margaret. I don't even know where you want to go, although if you want to take my advice, I know someone who can help you."

Surprised, I looked at him. He knew someone who could help? I know it sounds ridiculous, but how many town boys who used to be woodcutters' sons knew someone wise to the locations of the four Winds and how to reach them? For the second time that day, I looked at my father's oldest assistant with new eyes.

"Who?" I asked.

"My grandmother. She lives in the forest, and she knows about magic. When she was young, she had to turn herself into a duck."

I stared at him incredulously.

"No, I swear. Magic runs in our family, the transformative kind."

Silence. I fidgeted for a few moments, but then I finally gave in.

"So what happened?" I demanded.

"It was a life and death situation, so she turned herself into a duck because there was nowhere to hide. It was how she met my grandfather. He'd been turned into a deer."

I have to say something about the kingdom of Kuetas. Hans' story might sound completely impossible, or at least highly improbable, but let me tell you something. Magic runs in the blood of a lot of the old families that have been here for generations, powerful magic. It's especially strong in country folk. Now, certain kinds of magic are incredibly common and simple, like my aunt's - she can boil water by whistling. If she whistles the right tune, the water tastes like apple cider. My grandfather taught her to whistle, but she learned to boil the water by herself. But sometimes, in the really ancient lines that have never gone into the city, there are those - usually women, and usually young women at that, though some men as well - with magic the likes of which is normally found in old legends. And this was the kind of magic that Hans was talking about: the ability to turn oneself into a duck, or nine innocent boys into swans. It was the kind of magic that Lily had.

"Your grandfather was a deer?"

"His step-mother cursed the four rivers in the woods near their house. He drank from one of them and turned into a deer. But my grandmother and my great-aunt broke the spell. They know a lot about magic, especially Grandmother Scarlet. She lives in the forest near here."

"How near?" I asked, because near to me was the edge of the meadow, and I knew that was not what Hans meant.

"Maybe half a day's walk from here if it's light. I know the way."

I looked at him, and he held my eyes. Never since the vanishing of my last brother had I journeyed beyond this meadow. I had nightmares of often getting lost in the woods at night and meeting some dark end, surrounded by pitch blackness and the thunderous beating of great wings. If Hans said he knew the way, it was up to me to trust in him. But I wasn't entirely sure that I could.

"I'll look after you, Margaret," he promised softly. "Don't worry."

All I could do was to nod and go back to the house to make sure all was ready for what the town boy was planning regarding getting the three of us away before we were missed.

* * *

Thunder hammered in my breast. A waterfall roared in my ears. Or was it only the pounding of my heart? I could hear my blood rushing through my ears. An almost mindless fear was like cold metal spreading across my tongue. All around me, I could feel the darkness of the oncoming twilight breathing against my ice cold skin. We were on the edge of the meadow against the wall of the trees. The sun had already sunk beneath the treetops. Barely breathing, I stared at the lengthening shadows between the trunks of the pines and firs.

"We've got to go while they're still on the other side of the forest," Hans said softly.

Wulf nodded his agreement. Nervousness screamed in every line of his body as he glanced over his shoulder for Lily the Witch. Blue eyes like ice, he stood waiting, eager to be off into the trees and under cover of night and bough.

But I couldn't move. Fear held me motionless.

"I'm scared," I gasped out, though I had sworn not to tell them. It was ridiculous. Nearly all of my life, my greatest wish had been for the freedom to go into the woods. But now that the chance was here, I could scarcely manage to twitch my fingers, much less take a step.

"Margaret-"

I could hear the first embers of hot anger in Hans' voice when Wulf took my hand in his grimy one. The feel of grit and dust against my skin was soothing. I had held this boy's hand many times when I was upset. My father called Wulf my brother, in the same way that he called Lily my mother. But while I hated Lily, I had always liked and felt safe with Wulf.

_He is her son,_ a part of me whispered, and I told it to shut up. He was my friend. He would help me do this.

"One step, Marzipan. Close your eyes, and take one step."

With his soft, growling voice to hold my fear and his hand in mine, I took my first step across the threshold of the forest and into the darkness beneath the branches of the trees overhead. I opened my eyes, surrounded by darkness. A small cry jumped out of my mouth.

"It's all right," Wulf said earnestly. "Marzipan, relax. The dark can't hurt you. Give your eyes time to adjust."

I waited. One heartbeat, then two, then three. Four. Five, six, seven, eight, and then nine. One heartbeat for each of my nine brothers. And in the space of nine beats, I felt the moon- and starlight filter through the trees with the last dying rays of the sun, and I could see. Not clearly, of course, but well enough. With the return of my sight came the return of my calm. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ready?" Hans asked.

"Yes."

"Come on," he replied. "This way.


	6. 5 The Wooden House

**Chapter Five**

**The Wooden House**

It took only a night, a day, and the edge of twilight to reach the house of Hans' grandmother. It took longer than expected because of the wooden house in the woods, and the evil within it.

Night had long ago fully descended and decided to stay a while when it happened. The deep darkness of midnight, with which I was quite familiar, still held enmity for me. Pretending to be docile and tractable, the dark led me into a sense of security, and so I missed the root that tripped me and twisted my ankle.

I fell face first into the loam, hastily jerking my head back and spitting out leaves and dirt. When something that felt suspiciously like a fat beetle skittered over my hands, I shrieked, scaring both the boys out of their minds.

Wulf grabbed one arm, Hans the other, and they hauled me up, nearly wrenching my arms out of their sockets. I didn't care - I just wanted to be away from the slimy bug that had tried to get intimate with my hand. Leaning on Hans was easy, since he didn't have scraggly hair that tickled my face. But the moment I regained my composure and tried to force my feet to take my full weight, I nearly fell down again.

"Ow!"

"What's wrong?" Hans demanded immediately, forcing me to lean on him again. "What is it?"

"My ankle," I said, feeling like a ninny. I'd tripped and managed to hurt myself to the point I couldn't walk. We'd been on this "quest" less than a full day. Things were not looking too good. But I didn't say any of that aloud. Instead, I added, "I think I twisted it when I fell. It hurts a lot." In fact, a red hot throbbing was shooting up from my leg past my knee. Even trying to so much as wiggle my toes made tears of pain prick my eyes.

"What now?" Wulf asked Hans gruffly. I could barely see the outline of his face in the dark with my vision blurry and wet.

"I don't have the slightest idea," the town boy replied. "It's too dark to see enough to make her a crutch or anything. And we can't just stop here. It's the middle of the night. There might be wolves."

Without replying, suddenly I found myself being hoisted into Wulf's arms.

"What are you doing!?" I yelped.

"You can't walk."

"I know, but-"

"But nothing. Let's go. We'll stop if we come to a house or at dawn, whichever comes first."

Hans looked at Wulf for a long moment, and a prickle of unease rolled up my spine, making my back itch and sweat suddenly pop out against my skin. Without thinking, I grabbed the rough homespun of my friend's shirt. Hans' mint green eyes took in my gesture, took in the sight of my white-knuckled grip on Wulf's shirt, and then he smiled a little, nodded, and started walking. Looking at Wulf's face, I saw that same smile. Confused, I finally gave up trying to figure out what that had been about and tried to relax while making sure my legs didn't fall asleep.

* * *

You know how, when you read certain stories, and the heroine is in the forest at night and there's an empty house and you know that if the heroine goes inside, she's probably going to be eaten by trolls or baked into a cookie by a witch or something? As I write this, I can only wonder that the boys and I had lost our senses so completely that we didn't stop to think, in a kingdom full of magic both wondrous and dangerous, that an empty house in the middle of a forest while we were on a quest trying to thwart an evil witch was possibly a trap. We walked into it blindly, foolishly, and almost lost our lives for it. Hans and Wulf will always bear the mark of our stupidity.

The house was a one-story cabin made of logs, and the door - painted a vivid crimson - was wide open. It should have been a clue, but by this time, my ankle hurt so badly I almost asked Wulf to cut my foot off. I could tell by the number of stumbles that both Hans and Wulf were exhausted. All three of us had been up since dawn the day before, and save for when my friend had lifted me up to carry me, we had not stopped to rest all night. Now, as dawn crawled nearer and nearer the horizon, we lost our heads and ran into the empty cabin.

A fire was lit on the hearth, but there was no sign of a living soul save the three of us. No food was laid out on the bare table, which allayed our suspicions of sinister enchantment, and no beds or any such comforts presented themselves. There weren't even any chairs, so no traps could hide in the furniture. Hans went outside to fetch something, I didn't know what, and Wulf carefully laid me in front of the fire. Looking at my ankle made me wince. It had swelled to nearly twice its natural size. Blue and vivid violet mottling spread like a shackle around the entire joint and all around, from the middle of the top of my foot to the midway point on my shin. Had I broken it?

"You sprained it," Hans said, coming back inside and shutting the door.

The click of the door settling in its frame made a chill trickle down my spine, but I ignored it, preoccupied with the now white-hot burning pain in my leg. Brushing ineffectually at my tearing eyes, I watched him bring in a pail of water and an armload of firewood logs still un-chopped. Dropping the wood and setting down the pail, he went into his pack and pulled out his hatchet.

With careful, sure strokes, he cut two logs in half, then with exactingly movements, cut two inch wedges off the halved logs.

"What are you doing?" I asked crossly. My vision blurred from tears and pain. I just wanted to lie down and rest, but I knew that no matter how tired I was, I'd have to be nearly dead with exhaustion before this pain would allow me to sleep.

"Making a splint," he said. "Not a very good one, but it's the best we can do with what we have."

Then he pulled off his shirt and dunked it into the bucket. He glanced at me quickly before slapping the whole sopping mess onto the swollen part of my leg.

Icy water made me shriek. Dignity made me stifle it. Shivering with the cold of it, I gritted my teeth and watched as Hans cut up his vest to make ties for my splint. The frigidity of the water numbed some of the fiery spikes stabbing into my leg. I felt myself start to relax.

"The cold will bring the swelling down," he mumbled, brushing his hair out of his eyes. I could tell he was barely keeping from nodding off. Only the pain made me any better. I heard a growling snore, and looked to see Wulf grousing in his sleep, half sitting up and leaning against the wall. I had to grin.

"We're all exhausted," Hans said.

"Tell me about it."

"Well, you see, we woke up at dawn, and-"

"Shut up, Hans," I said, still smiling, as he began splinting my leg, wrapping it tightly with strips of material that I recognized as the remains of one of his shirts.

"Maybe when I go to bed," he said, and I could tell that despite his tiredness, he was grinning too.

* * *

I managed to sleep, and luckily, I dreamed. It was the only thing that saved me, but I was too late to help the lads.

In the meadow, atop the Watch Rock, I kept my eye on the flocks on the green. It had been a long, long time since I'd kept watch alone. Off in the distance, near the stream, a flight of swans swam gracefully in the early dawn light. The rays of the sun glinted off ebony and ivory feathers. And Wulf and Hans were kneeling to drink from the stream. At the sight of them, my blood turned to ice, though I couldn't have said why. I tried to call out, but my voice was trapped within my throat.

All around me the lambs were crying. There were words in their bleats, but I couldn't understand them. I tried to call to Hans and Wulf again and again as they cupped their hands and filled them with the water.

The water....

_Don't drink the water!_

I bolted awake, screaming, "Don't drink the water!"

But I was too late.

As I spoke, the water from the well of the wooden house with the red door touched Hans' and Wulf's lips. I knew that things were about to get very, very bad.


	7. 6 The Stone House

**Chapter Six**

**The Stone House**

A groan seemed to crawl from Wulf's lips as he dropped to the floor in a heap, shivering as if wracked with chills. Sweat suddenly popped out on his forehead. The veins in his eyes stood out blood red against the whites. Moaning, shaking, he tried to haul himself to all fours, panting for breath. Hans seemed bespelled, unable to move an inch, and neither could I. We could only watch as Wulf groaned and shook, gasping for air as if drowning.

Suddenly, with a series of vicious popping sounds and a scream that should have ripped his face in two, the flesh of his hands split. But there was no blood... only thick, black fur. With a cry, he scrambled to his feet, running until he slammed bodily into the red painted door, and staggered out of the wooden house and into the night. For a moment, I could only try to remember to breathe. Then Hans bolted after him.

I tried to rise, but my ankle gave way beneath my weight and I fell in a graceless heap. Tears poured from my eyes. The weight of what had happened settled over me like a shroud. Cursed. The water was cursed. Now Wulf was cursed as well. He would become... some beast, I knew not what kind. Even as I thought this, a keening echoed through the cabin, and I realized it was coming from me. My heart pounded, and my blood roared in my ears. My friend had been cursed.

"Margaret, it's all right," Hans called.

Fighting the urge to laugh hysterically at the idea of anything being all right, I looked up and realized I'd had my head hanging down, my eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down my face. And standing in the door, silhouetted against the light from the fire against the darkness outside, stood Hans and a great, shaggy, four-legged animal. As it stepped into the firelight, I saw what it was: a huge, black wolf with eyes like blue crystals.

Wulf.

The wolf padded toward me on silent paws bigger than my splayed hands and came to stand before me, tail low to the ground, whining like a sorrowful dog. Trepidation in every movement of my body, I reached out to the beast with one trembling hand. It - no, he, this was my friend - he held completely still, letting me run just the very tips of my fingers over the smooth, black fur of his muzzle and face, over the pointed ears and thick ruff around the neck. Then he moved a pace closer and licked my arm with a warm tongue, leaving a cool trail of saliva on my skin.

"What do we do now?" I asked, not knowing who I spoke to, the wolf who was my Wulf or to Hans. "How do we fix this?"

"I don't know," Hans replied. "I don't know a lot about magic, other than it has a lot to do with balance. But my grandmother might. And at least in this form, we'll have more protection than if we were just three travelers alone."

"Why not you?" I asked then, feeling horrible for even thinking it, but I had to know. Did Hans have some sort of protection against dark magic? Was that why only Wulf had fallen prey to the cursed water?

"I don't know that either," he said. "I don't wear my clothes inside out or anything like that. That only works on Faeries anyway, so it does no good against witchcraft and other sorceries."

After that, it seemed like there was nothing more to talk about, so I tried to fall back asleep. We did have to travel in the morning, and I knew Hans was tired, still.

Wulf the wolf curled up next to me, sighing and whining. I laid my hand on his neck, feeling a sense of desperation as my fingers brushed the fur. I remembered what Lily had said of my brothers, trapped as swans without their souls. Was the same curse laid on Wulf? Would he lose more and more of his humanity as the curse stayed upon him? Could I break this curse as well as the one on my brothers, or was I in way over my head? With a sigh, I tried to close out these thoughts by closing my eyes, but it was a long while before I found sleep again.

* * *

A scream and a snarl wrenched me violently from sleep. Gasping, I scrambled upright and stared, uncomprehending at what I was seeing. Wulf the wolf was snarling and snapping, writhing around on the floor, and Hans... what had happened to Wulf last night was happening now to the town boy. The skin on the back of his hands split open, and instead of blood, thick russet fur showed through. Muscles contorting, with those cruel popping noises shattering the stillness, Hans scuttled out the brilliantly scarlet door right as a human form sprang out of the black fur of the wolf.

Where Wulf the wolf had been now lay Wulf the human, shivering and gasping for breath, flesh slick with perspiration, eyes clenched tightly shut. And on the stairs of the wooden house, coming towards the door, silhouetted against the gloomy dawn light, was a wolf with a reddish brown coat and mint green eyes.

Now I knew why Hans had not transformed last night. He had said magic was about balance. Wulf would be a beast by night, and Hans the beast by day. As soon as I thought this, I knew it to be true. And now I knew that despite the differences between us, I cared as much for Hans as I did for Wulf.

Fresh tears came, but I hastily dashed them away. We didn't have time for me to start bawling. Dawn was here, and if I knew my father, he was already looking for me.

"Marz... Marzipan...." Wulf moaned. I crawled to him slowly, awkward with my lower leg in its makeshift splint. My hand found his skin burning hot, almost feverish, wet with sweat. Fear made my heart pound hard. Had the transformation made him sick?

"It's all right," I murmured inanely, knowing nothing could be all right in a world where brothers were cursed to be swans, friends cursed to be wolves, and shadows baked into cakes. But I had to say something. I couldn't think of anything else, and Wulf's shivering and moaning scared me to death.

As if to back me up, Hans came over and nuzzled Wulf's sweaty face with his nose.

"See?" I said. "Now, come on. We need to get you in some clothes before you catch a chill."

Wulf shivered his way into a fresh pair of black trews and un-dyed wool shirt, which helped him to stop shaking so badly. I managed not to look at anything other than his face as I helped him, or my own face might have caught fire from my blush. When he was dressed, he only sat there by the fire for a long time, staring into the flames. My heart grew cold in my chest. I could count each beat, and it felt like an eternity. _Time,_ the still, small voice inside my heart whispered to me. _You are running out of time._

_I know_, I told it. _I know. But I don't know what to do with him._

"Ride Hans," Wulf said suddenly, as if I'd asked him a question. My inner dialogue ground to a halt and I turned to stare at him, unsure I'd heard him correctly.

"What?"

"Try to walk," he said, which I know had not been his previous statement. Without even bothering to shift my bad leg, I replied, "I can't. Even with the splint, my ankle won't hold my weight, and the forest floor doesn't exactly have the nicest manners when it comes to crutches or walking sticks."

"Then you gotta ride. We don't have a horse, so you can ride Hans during the day and me at night."

I looked from the farm boy to the town boy, now in wolf form, and realized something I'd been too tired to notice before: Hans was bigger than a pony! He really was big enough to ride on. I wasn't very tall - just shy of five and a half feet - and I weighed less than two hundred pounds (at least, I thought so) so there was no reason really why the wolf couldn't carry me. But still... ride a wolf? A _wolf_?

I half-opened my mouth to protest and caught those mint green eyes staring at me. I blinked. What was he looking at me for? For the first time, I realized that spoken language was very useful. Not being able to pester Hans about his thoughts was going to be very difficult to deal with.

The russet wolf whuffed softly and put his head on his paws. I glanced at Wulf.

"He agrees. We have to go now. Lily's probably looking for us, and so is your father, I bet. We need to get going."

I sighed, knowing he was right and hating to admit it. But leave we finally did, after I ate an apple for breakfast. Wulf said he wasn't hungry, and Hans was anxious to go, as well. With my friend's help, I managed to get onto the wolf's great, shaggy back. With Hans taking care not to spill me off, we left the wooden house with the red door and the cursed water.

* * *

Hans led us to his grandmother's house. Nothing else happened on the trip. It seemed as if Fate had decided that two curses in less than a full day was enough for three young people to deal with at the moment. Still, this itch between my shoulders refused to go away. I knew something else would happen soon enough.

The cottage where Hans' grandmother lived - the famous, magical grandmother who had at one time been able to transform herself into a water fowl - was one story, and made of stone blocks heavily whitewashed. There was a well with a whitewashed awning and wooden cover, and a whitewashed bench in a little garden in front of the door. The door, too, was whitewashed. Everything about the place was neat and tidy and cozy. The roof had been recently thatched, and smoke rings puffed out of the stone chimney. It reminded me, in fact, of my own house, except this cottage stood in a small clearing, not a meadow, and had only one story, not two. And of course, there were no sheep.

Sighing, I tried to slide off of Hans' back and nearly fell when my good leg buckled. I'd been on wolf-back since dawn, and dusk was nearly here. Twilight's gloom pressed against my skin, cool and damp with the threat of spring rain. But before I could fall, Wulf had me in his arms until I'd managed to seat myself on the grass.

"It's time," he whispered, looking at where the sun was kissing the treetops. "I can feel it."

"I can wait," I said, hating the look of panic flickering across his face like flames. "It's probably best if Hans is... himself again, before we knock on the door, anyway."

"Yes," Wulf replied woodenly, and started to trudge towards the tree line. "Yes...."

It was the same as at dawn, only reversed. Within moments of the sun sinking beneath the trees, the black-furred Wulf came bounding out of the trees, a bundle of cloth in his mouth. Unlike last night, he'd thought to strip before the transformation shredded the few clothes he had packed. And beside me, Hans was now a shivering, sweating, half-feverish mess trying to drag on his own clothes. He was thinner, much thinner, than he had been this morning, and his face was gaunt and white.

"Well," he wheezed when his clothes were in place and he had helped me to my feet. "Let's knock."

When we knocked on the whitewashed door, a slender woman with silvery-streaked hair had answered. Hans' grandmother was not what I'd expected. For one thing, she wasn't very old-looking. My grandmother was almost sixty. His was the same age as Lily the witch, though I could tell that her magic had aged her. Her face was a mass of tiny, delicate wrinkles, like the kind in bread dough while it's kneaded, and her hair was streaked with haphazard silver stripes. Dark spots covered her hands. But she stood as straight and tall as any young girl, and her eyes twinkled.

Upon seeing Hans, she'd gasped and ushered both of us in. She put Hans by the hearth and me in a rocking chair with a stool for my ankle. What was odd about the arrangement was that upon seeing Wulf, she bade him welcome, as if he were a lord, and let him sit beside Hans at the fire.

"Well, young lady, I'll have your name," she said.

I glanced at her, surprised. Her eyes were bright green, like elf stones, and her thin lips were tilted in a smile. Her face was wrinkled like a winter apple. Her expression made me relax, but I wondered why she did not speak to Hans.

"My grandson is in no shape to gossip," she said. "What he needs is to warm up a bit before he freezes. I don't know what you two and that wolf have been up to, but I want as much of the story as you can give me. You can start with your name."

"Margaret," I said, and Hans' grandmother shook her head.

"You can lie to others," she said, "and you can even lie to yourself. But no one can get a lie past Scarlet Woodman."

I blinked, confused. Then I said, "My parents named me Margaret."

"Good for them," Scarlet replied. "What's your name?"

I opened my mouth with no idea what to say when Hans whispered something.

"What?" His grandmother asked.

"Marzipan," he said, louder this time, and cleared his throat. "Her name is Marzipan."

There was nothing for it: my jaw dropped. In the almost five years that I had known Hans, he had never, ever called me Marzipan. He loathed that name, he said. He hated all things sweet, he said. Almond paste that really was only good for making something you couldn't eat, he said. And now he was offering up my name to his grandmother like a token or toll of some kind, and I realized that that name was the one she wanted, though I couldn't have told you why.

"Ah. Marzipan. In a kingdom like Kuetas, that kind of name has power. So, Miss Marzipan, do you want to tell me how you came to be traveling with a wolf and my grandson, who happens to look like death warmed over?"

Hans gave me a barely perceptible nod, and I told her everything: the curse on my brothers, Lily the witch and the shadow cakes. When I said this, Scarlet started in surprise, and her face registered her shock. When I went on to talk about the wooden house and the cursed water, she held up one wrinkled, dark-spotted hand.

"Did the house have a red door?"

"Yes," I replied slowly, unsure of the significance of that. Looking back, I had thought the color odd - no other plank of wood on that building had been anything other than wood-colored - but the fear in the old woman's eyes gave me pause now. "Why?"

"Then you were lucky to get out of that house alive," Scarlet told me, and my jaw went slack again. "A witch lives in that house, a very, very bad one. Powerful, too. I've done my best to keep her at bay in the forest, but I'm old and can't do as much for myself against a young one like her anymore. This Lily you've told me about, she might have learned her magic from that one. Baker's magic is tricky to learn, unless you come by baking naturally, like the Lady Claire. But blood magic is an easy thing to dabble in, and a power a chit like you should stay far away from. Blood is what poisons baker's magic and twists it into something dark and cruel. That's where cursed things like shadow cakes and gingerbread cages come from - blood-poisoned baker's magic."

"What's a gingerbread cage?"

"It's a cookie, but a big one, the size of a small child. It's used to trap a person's heart, just as a shadow cake traps a person's spirit. Without the spirit, a person loses their humanity, the very thing that makes them who they are. But a person's heart... that contains all their potential, all their power, and their hopes and dreams and feelings. It's a wicked thing, to cage someone's heart."

As Scarlet had explained gingerbread cages, something began nibbling on the back of my mind, anxious to get my attention. But try as I might, every time I focused on it, it slipped away. Finally, it leaped into my brain with such force I jumped.

"Polichinelles!" I cried.

Hans' grandmother stared at me.

"What on earth are you talking about, child?"

Quickly, I told her what Lily had said to Wulf about turning Lady Claire's Polichinelles into gingerbread cookies. All the time I spoke, a look began darkening her features. By the time I was finished, I thought steam might pour out of her ears like a tea kettle.

"The Polichinelles," Scarlet told me gravely, "are Lady Claire's daughters, from her first husband. I'd heard rumors," she added, "of the Polichinelles trapped in some kind of curse, but now I know the truth of it. No witch would boast of a thing like that unless it had already been accomplished. Lady Claire must be told."

For the third time, my mouth dropped open. So they had been cursed, too, like my brothers and Wulf and Hans.

"This is madness," Scarlet said softly. "Before the King's death and the Prince's disappearance, the good magic of the royal family kept the wicked sorcery in the land at bay. But the Prince has been gone too long, and his sisters, too. Kuetas needs its rulers back."

"Well," I said. "I can't do anything about that. That's up to the Regent. But I have to help my brothers and the lads." I gestured to Hans. "I'm worried that this curse has more to it. When he became human tonight, Hans looked awful. And this morning, Wulf looked as if he'd been ill with the summer sickness or some other horrible thing. I'm afraid this curse might kill them if it's not broken in time."

For a long time, the old woman studied the black wolf and shivering boy in front of her fire, saying nothing. I waited, trying not to fidget.

"It's not the curse," she said finally, and I let the air whoosh out my lungs. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath. "At least, not the curse from the water. I don't know... I'm not sure... it can't be just an illness. There may be something more... Hans," she said sharply, and he turned to her. "Come here for a moment."

With shuffling, tired steps, the town boy approached his grandmother in her large, redwood rocking chair, and she brushed the edges of his reddish brown hair with her fingertips. Frowning, she touched the ends again. The tip of her tongue poked between her teeth.

"Have you had a haircut recently?"

"No," he said. His own trembling hand reached up to touch the tips of his hair.

"Hmmm.... She's a clever one, that Lily witch. She's cursed you good and proper, my buck, no question. A lock of your hair was all it took, poor thing. I've never given you anything against sorcery. I saved them all for your sister. I see now that was foolish of me."

"Why would she curse Hans?" I cried, and the look that Scarlet leveled on me left me feeling as dumb as an ox.

"Probably, she keeps all such curses ready to be laid on the folks in your house. Witches, even the good ones, tend to be paranoid about enemies and keep little things on hand. And since Hans left with you, she cast the spell to slow you both down. But no worries, dear. I can break a little old curse like this, I promise you that. It's those big things, transformations and the like, that can shake of my magic like water. I'd warrant she's cursed Wulf in the same way. As for you... if she believes you are her child, as you heard her say, she'll not harm you unless things become a lot more desperate than they are now."

Of course. I ought to have thought of that myself. But I was tired, and my ankle was throbbing red-hot....

"You need to take to your bed, child," Scarlet told me when a yawn threatened to crack my face like a plate. "Three days I'll need to break these little spells. I can give you some protection against enchantments into the bargain. But for now, bed for all three of you."

* * *

Three days exactly is how long it took. Three days, we stayed in the stone house with Scarlet Woodman, Hans' grandmother. Three days while the lads became sicker and sicker, and the pain and swelling of my ankle went down. In that time, I only saw the older woman once, for she made the lads bring me meals and refused to let me out of bed except to pee and dress.

But that one conversation was enough to give me more hope than I'd had since Wulf had transformed that first night.

The third night we were there, Scarlet herself brought me my food on a tray. It was simple fair, the kind of things I liked - a little wheel of cheese, a couple dinner rolls, a few of the silvery-tinted thumb plums that grew on bushes instead of trees in the forest, and a cup of milk. I thought she would leave after handing me the tray, but she didn't. Instead, she sat on the bed, her fingers smoothing over the quilt that covered my legs.

"Marzipan," she said, as if savoring my name. A blush rose up in my face, but I had no idea why. "That is, indeed, a very powerful name in Kuetas."

"I don't see why," I replied, a little irritated. I liked Marzipan better than Margaret, but I didn't see what was so wonderful about either one, really. "I'm named after almond paste."

"Did you know there is a legend about marzipan?"

"Um... no." She had to be joking. About marzipan? That was absolutely ridiculous.

But Scarlet replied, "Oh, yes. I'm surprised your father or your friends never spoke of it to you. It's very, very old, and it's only a small part of a bigger story, but I remember the beginning quite well, actually. It goes,

"_Sweet is the peace of the kingdom_

_Where subtlety doth fly_

_Where the Prince rules in dreams_

_And the wolves guard the sheep by night_

_Almond trees dance in her footsteps_

_Day and dark lope by her side_

_Sweet is the peace of the kingdom_

_Where marzipan doth reside."_

"You made that up!" I cried, trying to ignore the shivers running up my spine. My heart thumped hard and painful in my chest. That still, small voice inside me was no longer so small or so still. A burning filled my chest. Suddenly, tears were rolling down my face. I didn't know why.

"I assure you, child," Hans' grandmother replied, wiping a trail of tears from my cheek. "I did not. Do you know why I asked for your name? And why I called it a lie when you said 'Margaret?' I'll tell you why. Your parents may have given you the name Margaret, and some might even call you that. But for good or ill, your name is Marzipan. That is who you are. Names define us in very special ways. The name you call yourself tells others much about who you are. Marzipan. Beauty, subtlety, strength, sweetness, wonder. Do you see, my girl?"

I shook my head. I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. It was just a confectionary tool, that was all. Nothing special.

"Well, that's all an old witch like me can say about things like that. Perhaps you're not old enough to understand. Perhaps your father has kept you in that cage too long, and you've yet to discover yourself. I don't know either way. But I also know that there's information you want that I have."

At this, I perked up, scrubbing at my face. I hated to cry, especially if I didn't have a good reason. Trying to wipe away the evidence of my tears, I looked at Scarlet expectantly.

"The four winds."

My heart froze for a long second. Then, with a thunderous _whump!_ It began to beat like a drum being pounded by a small child. I had forgotten to ask, that first night. Hans must have said something.

"Well," the older woman began. "I know you know that they like human foods. Don't ask me why, but the Avatars love mortal food."

"Avatars?"

"The human forms of the winds, dear. Now, luckily, we are in the easternmost part of Kuetas, so the East Wind is nearby. In fact, he comes to my back door every morning at dawn."

I blinked.

I stared.

I gaped.

I admit it.

"What? What do you mean?" Could it really be that easy? Was the East Wind really so close? How was that even possible? Surely something like one of the winds wouldn't just be loitering around some old woman's cottage in the middle of the forest. So why would the wind come here? Unless she had something to entice it....

"I met the East Wind a long time ago, when I was young, when I had to...."

"When you turned yourself into a duck," I finished for her, and was rewarded by her look of pleased surprise. "Hans told me about it," I added. "What was that all about, anyway?"

"My step-mother tried to kill me," Scarlet replied, "but I managed to trick her. She ended up killing my step-sister instead. But she came after me, so during the night we traveled and during the day I would use my magic to hide myself. Once, I turned myself into a duck. My step-mother tried to lure me with bits of bread, but I had strong magic, especially when I was young. I had kept enough of my humanity to remember not to go to her.

"But then she called a hunter to her, and he would have shot me, so I tried to fly away. I wouldn't have made it, but suddenly the wind picked up. Leaves and grass and even small stones and earth flew everywhere, blinding the hunter and my step-mother. Nothing touched me except the wind. It blew me upwards, lifting me high into the sky, to safety.

"When I finally landed and returned to my true form, I met the East Wind. As payment for his help, I agreed to give him whatever he wanted - within reason, of course."

Intrigued almost against my will, I leaned forward, cupping my chin in my hands. Hans had not told me any of this! Even in Kuetas, intervention from any sort of power like one of the four Winds was, if not completely unheard of, at least extremely rare. Anxious to know more, I scooted closer.

"What did he ask for?"

At this, Scarlet laughed, and I realized I'd never heard the sound before. It was like green velvet or the sound that wet glass makes when you run your finger over it. My Aunt Clarissa had shown me how you could make music that way, though I'd never been able to do it.

"Of all the silly things, he asked me to make him tea and sticky buns every morning at dawn to go with his breakfast. Can you imagine?"

The idea of something like the East Wind making a request more probable in a small child made me laugh.

"When he comes tomorrow," she said, "I will ask him to take you to the castle."

"But we could walk to the castle," I protested, and the older woman shook her head.

"No, child. Not the provincial castle. I mean Castle Kuetas itself, in the heart of our lands. There is where the West Wind resides, in the Garden of the Golden Lilies, where she can dance. Now, Marzipan, go to bed. You must be up, packed, and ready to travel at dawn. Your ankle is well enough now," she added, "that if you continue to ride for the next week or so, with my magic in the bargain, it will be well enough before you reach Mount Scaelos. Now, sleep."

But I couldn't sleep. So instead, I looked out the window from where I lay in bed, watching as the Winter Star winked into brightness. Ice cold, the color of sunlight on snow, the Winter Star burned in the sky so bright you could see it even through the clouds. It hung directly above Mount Scaelos, the X on my celestial map. But it hurt my eyes to look at it for too long, so I closed them and relaxed, trying to find sleep.

My mind drifted to the East Wind. What was he like, the Lord Eastern? There were four Winds, all told: Lord Eastern, Lady Westernesse, Lord North, and Lady Southerly. What were the four of them like? I had never met a denizen of Faery before. I had never even seen a member of the nobility before. How would they be different from other people? Would their otherness show to my common eyesight?

Tomorrow, I would meet the East Wind.

This thought, and all my questions, revolved around and around in my brain until they dragged me down into a restless sleep.

* * *

"She makes them with honey."

"What?" I jumped, surprised, at the soft, lilting voice behind me. I turned around and there stood a little boy in a yellow jacket and black short-pants, barefoot. His black hair was cut short, and his skin was the color of cinnamon tea. Eyes like two little black buttons twinkled in his face. The boy stood in the back door of Scarlet's kitchen, grinning. He had a gap between his two front teeth. The rising sun, just barely peeking over the tops of the pines, turned his dark hair to shiny silk. Gold threads glittered on his yellow jacket.

"Scarlet makes the rolls with honey in the morning, to make them sweet. Aren't they tasty?" He casually strolled in, grabbed one of the rolls glistening with butter, and took a pert bite. He smiled around the mouthful. "I always come for her food. She's wonderful."

I stared at him, suddenly struck by a suspicion blooming in my mind. This child in the shiny, yellow jacket with the button-bright eyes... he couldn't be... could he?

"Are you... you can't be...." There was no hope. The words were so ludicrous they were hiding from my tongue.

The voice of Hans' grandmother broke the silence.

"Meet the East Wind."

Despite my rising suspicion, the confirmation of my thoughts struck me dumb. The East Wind seemed delighted by my surprise and giggled happily while munching on honeyed bread and sipping warm tea and milk.


	8. 7 Golden Hart, White Hound

**Chapter Seven**

**Golden Hart, White Hound**

In the end, the East Wind was glad to help. He agreed with almost childish anticipation, though I don't know why I was surprised. He was, of course, a child, in form if not in truth. Often had I noticed that the winds from the east seemed to prance around me and tug at my sleeves and skirts, as if asking me to play with it. It was a warm wind that came from the coast - which I had never seen - softened by its journey through the Mandias Forest, where my family and Hans' grandmother lived. And now I knew that the form it took was that of an impish little boy. How appropriate.

We were ready to go, or so I thought, by the time dawn was well and truly over and the tardy sun had finally made his entrance. The wind whispered through the branches of the evergreens. The tall meadow grass and bright red and white and yellow wild roses danced on the breeze. I sat on Hans' back, and Wulf stood beside me, with the East Wind on his other side.

"Don't go just yet, children," Scarlet called as she bustled out the door. In her arms were... a great many things. I didn't recognize all of them. "Have you forgotten? I promised you help with the curses on the lads."

"Oh, yes, that's right."

In fact, I had forgotten.

With an indulgent smile, Scarlet handed off the pack in her arms, embroidered with golden swirls and beaming suns, to the East Wind. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, grinning and showing off his gap.

"Tea and sticky buns!"

"Yes, East," Scarlet replied, and then handed something to me.

I held it up and examined it, surprised. In my hands I held a red wool cloak lined with russet fur, with a fur lined hood. Surprisingly, there was embroidery on the panels, in shimmering gold thread, of all kinds of things. Deer leaping over lilies, swans flapping their great, golden wings; looming towers, like the kind in chess sets; golden snowflakes and roses.

My shock must have shown on my face, for Hans' grandmother laughed and said, "Put it on, dear."

So I did.

The minute it enfolded me, warmth and peace seemed to seep through my chilled skin and deep into my bones. I sighed and tied the strings at the neck of the cloak. The fur was soft and made the garment warm against the cool spring air. It also matched my brown vest with its pattern of embroidered red roses and my brown skirt. Confused by the warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with the cloak, I turned to Scarlet and murmured, "Thank you."

"Not at all. And here," at this, she turned to Wulf. "For you, Master Wulf, and for my grandson. These amulets will keep off Lily's dark influence. I can't prevent her from scrying you if she has the knack, for I'm too old and much of my magic is spent against the witch in the wooden house. But these will keep you from sickening any further. And if you eat the food I've prepared for you, you'll soon be near enough to your old selves. Understand?"

Wulf nodded and slipped a small, green stone on a leather cord over his neck. He placed the other around Hans' neck. The russet wolf licked the youth's arm.

"I've made both of you new clothes," the older woman added, "to replace the ones torn during your transformation. I hope you like blue, yellow, and purple. Here's a pack with journey bread and some apples," holding out another bag, this one of indigo cloth embroidered with bright yellow sunflowers, and a rucksack which probably held the clothes. Then, she handed me something hard with a pleasant, rich but very sweet smell, wrapped in a black cloth. I peeled back a corner of the cloth and saw that it was dark brown.

"What is-" I began, but Wulf interrupted.

"Chocolate!"

My eyes started out of my head. Chocolate was the one bribery sweet I hadn't had the foggiest notion of how to procure. Incredibly expensive - a pound cost more than a healthy, adult sheep at the market over in Greentree - there had been no chance that I could buy some, since I had no coin. Scarlet was giving me almost five pounds of the delicacy, almost a fortune.

"Thank you," I whispered, shocked.

"East here will take you to the Lady West, who loves coffee. I'm sure you have some?"

I nodded.

"She, in turn, will take you to the Lady Southerly, who adores chocolate. The South Wind will take you to the edge of the Vryst Mountain Range, as they begin in the heart of her territory. Her brother, North, will thank you for the peppermint candy and take you to the top of Mount Scaelos. Remember, be polite. You are dealing with denizens of the Faery Realm, and courtesy is important to them."

"Yes," Wulf replied.

"We will," I promised.

And suddenly, the East Wind had a hold of Hans' back and Wulf's hand, and the winds whipped around us, almost blinding. The roar in my ears nearly deafened me. Over the tumult I heard Hans' grandmother say something, but I couldn't make it out.

"What?" I called.

"Beware the blue and red doors!"

And then we were gone.

*** * ***

If you've ever traveled on the back of the wind, you'll know exactly what it's like, and if you haven't, nothing I say will make you understand. The only things that I can tell you are these: that the East Wind is wild and playful, cool as a spring morning with the dew still on the grass, and I was in danger of losing my breakfast more than once. But he was also swift, and he brought us to the gate into the Garden of the Golden Lilies well before dusk.

"Okay," he said, munching on another of the sticky buns Hans' grandmother had packed for us. "Now, don't dillydally. It's not safe to be outside the garden walls when night comes. I'd take you over the walls, but I can't. They mark the boundary between West's territory and mine. I can blow where I will, but I can't set foot anywhere but in the eastern places of Kuetas. But remember: be inside these walls before the sun touches the tops of the trees. Otherwise, you'll be in for it."

"Thanks, my lord-" I began, because surely something as powerful as the avatar of the East Wind deserved that title, but he jumped as if I'd jabbed him with a sewing needle.

"Yech! Don't call me that! East will do fine. Don't forget to tell West you've got coffee, or she'll ignore you. And don't forget to be nice to her."

Wulf and I nodded, and with another happy giggle, East disappeared in a gust of wind.

"You do well with children," my companion said suddenly.

I stared at him.

"Well, you do. At least, he seemed to like you."

"You sure do talk a lot since we left home," I said, unable to think of anything else to say. He simply shrugged. Sighing, I looked around for the walls, but saw nothing. "I thought he said we were at the walls," I said.

"Hmph," Wulf replied, and started walking. Hans carried me after him. We'd only gone about ten paces when Wulf smacked into something and fell on his back hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

"What happened!?"

"I don't know...."

We both looked at where he'd come to a halt, but there was nothing he could have run into. Hans brought me forward until I was level with the other boy. Hesitantly, I reached out and my fingers touched something as cold as ice. But there was nothing! Unless the walls were invisible....

"Wait," Wulf said suddenly, and making a disgusting gurgling sound, hawked a gargantuan glob of yellow slime into the air. It hit the invisible barrier with a splatting noise and slid down to the grass.

"Oh, yech! That's _revolting_."

"It worked," he replied, unruffled. "They're glass."

"What?"

"The walls are made out of glass."

"That's ridiculous," I replied, still disgusted by the sight of a slime trail hanging in empty space. "If they were glass, we could see through them to the gardens, and I only see grass."

"That's the way the gardens work," said a voice behind us, rich and rolling like a bronze bell. Hans whipped around, snarling, so fast that I fell off his back and landed in the grass. Wulf hunched forward, fists in the air. But the only thing in front of us was a herd of deer.

"Who's there!" When Wulf said it, it was more of a challenge than a question.

I tried to get off the ground, but with my leg splinted and wrapped tight against swelling, I couldn't do it.

"Don't country children notice anything these days?"

It was the same voice, but we still couldn't find the source. This strange, shivery feeling was running races up and down my back. The hair at the nape of my neck prickled. Who was talking? Unless this person was, like the supposed walls of the garden in front of us, made of glass.

"Where are you? Come out!" Wulf yelled.

"Oh, all right. Humans are so impatient, aren't they?"

Then I saw it, and my mouth dropped open. Stepping out of the herd of deer in front of us - the herd that, I had just noticed, was much closer to us than most deer would ever get to humans, much less two humans and a _wolf_ - was a buck with antlers nearly as tall as East. The buck himself was so tall that as he stepped daintily up to us, I realized that he was looking _down_ at me _and _Wulf with great, sad brown eyes. For the life of me, I couldn't get my mouth closed. But what really struck me dumb was not his height or the length of his antlers.

It was his color.

Once, when I was still small and we were living with my grandfather in Greentree, a woman with cinnamon hair and cream colored skin had come into our bakery and asked for more bread than I'd ever seen in my life - twice what my grandfather sold in a day. And when she paid, she gave my grandfather twenty gold coins. He had let me hold one because I had been delighted by the glimmering of the brilliant, yellow metal, the way it bent the light and seemed to glow.

Each of the hairs of the buck's coat glittered just like that coin. And his antlers gleamed like yellow jewels or crystals. The late afternoon sun glinted off of them, striking my eyes so they watered.

In all my life, I had never seen anything so beautiful.

Hans' hackles immediately went flat, and he stopped snarling. He even nosed me, as if apologizing for spilling me. It must have been some magic Scarlet put in the cloak, but luckily the fall only knocked the breath from me. My ankle hurt only a little, and my behind - which I'd landed on - hurt not at all.

"Forgive me," Wulf whispered. "I did not see...."

"This I know, for you do not yet know how to look," the golden buck replied gently. "But I forgive you. As for these walls, they are indeed glass, ensorcelled against prying eyes, for the Lady Westernesse and the Glass Queen are both private creatures."

Finally I had to look away. He was just too bright in the sun.

"So... do you know how to get into the gardens?" I asked the buck. His golden-velvet chuckle touched my ears.

"I do. If you'll do me a service, I'll show you the way."

"What service?" Wulf demanded, suspicion and restlessness coloring his voice. I glanced at him and saw his eyes on the sinking sun. We didn't have much time before dusk and his transformation. Unbidden, East's warning came back to me. There would be some kind of trouble if we weren't within the walls soon.

"Well, you see, I have an itch at the base of my left antler, but I can't quite reach it."

I blinked, stunned. That was it?

"Um...." I managed.

"Would you scratch it for me, young lady?"

"I can't get up... don't pull me!" Because Wulf had reached down and grabbed my arm in an attempt to haul me up. Last time the lads had done that, only the threat of slimy beetles had kept me from noticing how much the wrenching had hurt. There were no nasty insects now. But I found myself unsteady on my feet, looking up into those sad, brown eyes, with only my right shoulder the worse for wear.

Timidly, I reached up and scratched at the base of his antlers, careful not to cut myself on the jewel-like prongs.

"Ohh... oh, thank you. Thank you very much. That is quite nice. Yes, thank you. Now," and the buck shook his head, as if shaking off the last remnants of the itch. My hand was safely away from the antlers. "My name is Gaspard."

"What kind of name is that?" Wulf demanded, and I thumped him on the chest. This buck was obviously of Faery. We were supposed to be polite!

"It is my name. And yours?"

"Wulf. This is-"

"Marzipan, who has her own tongue and knows how to talk," I informed them both. "Can you take us to the gardens' front gate?"

Gaspard nodded and began to pick his way daintily through the tall grass. We walked for a few minutes in silence: Gaspard in the lead, me upon Hans, and Wulf bringing up the rear. But finally I said, "I though that Castle Kuetas was built between six hills." We were in the center of a meadow the size of a town, with no castle in sight.

"It is. But these are redwood trees, and they are too tall to allow anyone in the Sarastro Valley to see the six hills that ring around it," the buck said.

"Oh."

After that, there was silence. It wasn't until Wulf gasped and Hans started to growl that I realized the silence covered everything - the herd of deer we'd left behind, the bees that had suddenly stopped buzzing, the wind rustling the grass. I looked over my shoulder, but there was nothing except Wulf with his hand pressed to his chest, struggling to breathe.

"What's the matter?" I demanded, frightened.

"It's almost time... but there's something wrong."

"With you?"

"No... here. Something's coming... the curse can feel it...."

Then I heard it, the only sound that broke the heavy silence: the frantic and cruel baying of hounds.

The sun, which was paying court to the treetops, kissed the dark line of evergreens before sinking behind them. In a tight voice, Gaspard murmured, "Night falls quickly here, and we are far from the gates. We must move quickly."

"We can't," I replied as Hans lied down and I crawled off of him. Behind my back, Wulf was hastily pulling off his clothes. "These two are cursed. We have to wait out the transformation."

"Transformation?" Gaspard repeated, dumbfounded.

The yipping and snarling of dogs set my teeth on edge. I didn't know why. I'd grown up around a pack of dogs almost twice as big as my own twelve-person family, yet the familiar sounds made my blood run cold now. I waited with my eyes on the horizon, on the ever deepening twilight, as Hans managed to find his human form again and Wulf became the black-furred beast.

Pulling only his breeches on, no shirt or shoes, Hans lifted me up and set me on Wulf's back. Then he turned to Gaspard.

"What is that?"

I didn't have to ask what he meant.

"It is the Huntsman. He and his companions are hunting rat demons this night. Soon the hounds and the swans will call them up and set them to running. We must be well away from the walls by then - you inside them, and I returned to my herd in the forest."

"_Your_ herd?" I asked.

"Yes. I am the hart. I lead the herd. But I am also the only one who knows human speech, so it was deemed my responsibility to escort you. Now, we must run, or we will be caught by the hunters. Come!"

My heart pounding, I pressed myself against Wulf's warm, furry back and held his thick, black hair tight in my fists. The red of my cloak looked like a stain of blood against the dark hair in the dying daylight. With a low growl, my friend began to lope after the galloping hart. With a muttered oath that I'd never heard pass his lips, Hans tried to run after us on his weak, sweat-soaked legs.

Why terror raced through my veins, why my heart slammed in my chest, why my breath came in frantic, searing gasps, I couldn't have said. But I was frightened to the point of sheer panic. As the snarling and barking of the hunting dogs grew closer and closer, tears began to roll down my cheeks. The cold, oppressive twilight raked claws of fear through my body. Wulf's breath came in pants, great clouds of steam on the suddenly frigid air mingling with my own breath. Behind me, Hans huffed and puffed as he tried to keep up.

A snort of hot, moist air brushed against the back if my neck. I screamed. Wulf ran faster.

"Hurry!" Gaspard shouted from ahead of us. "Hurry!"

_We're not going to make it,_ I thought suddenly, sobbing now. _We're not going to make it._

Something sharp and hot nipped at my leg. I screamed, "Wulf!" The black beast beneath me skidded to a halt and dumped me onto the ground before turning to attack something huge and white. The black wolf and the white thing came together in a clash of snarls, growls, and teeth. Hans ran up to me, blocking my view, and lifted me up. "Wulf!" I screamed again.

"Come on!" Hans yelled over the roars of the two fighting animals. "We've gotta go!"

"No!"

"Come on!"

I tried to struggle, but when you can't stand on your own two feet without falling over, it's kind of impossible. Hans carried me as best he could, though his arms shook with the effort. Gaspard was snorting and pawing the earth. I could see the whites around those sad, brown eyes. Nearly choking on my fear, I turned to catch a glimpse of a black shape being borne down to the ground. There was a sudden yelp.

"Wulf!"

"Quickly," the golden hart said as Hans brought me to him. "The gates, here they are. You must answer a riddle!"

"What? Why? We don't exactly have the time!" Hans informed him waspishly, glancing over his shoulder and wincing. I desperately wanted to know what horrors he was seeing. "And riddles are not exactly something I'm good at."

"The key to the gates is a riddle. I'm sorry, but unless you want the pack to catch up with their scout, or the rat demons to come upon us, I suggest you accept the inevitable and answer the riddle before we are all slaughtered."

Hans' already pale face blanched whiter.

"What's the riddle?"

"_Made of diamond, but fleeting_

_Wind and water briefly meeting_

_Swarming like the bee_

_But no warmth there is to see_

_A tiny crystal, perfect in form_

_Dying with the breaking storm._"

I could see Hans trying to work through it in his head, and having no success. For a few agonizing seconds, I forced myself to look away from Wulf and the white beast and think.

_Made of diamond, but fleeting.... _

I knew of diamonds, and they were supposed to be one of the few precious stones that lasted forever. My aunt Clarissa had taken me to a jewel shop once, just to show me the pretty gems. We couldn't have afforded them in a million years. But the seller had been kind, understanding that though we were poor, I liked to look at the pretty things. And he'd told me that diamonds took lifetimes to form in the earth, but they would always last. So how could a diamond be fleeting? Unless the riddle didn't mean a literal diamond, but something that looked like a diamond....

_Wind and water briefly meeting...._

Again, not a long time. Briefly, and fleeting. Here one moment, gone the next. Wind and water... wind and water?

"Hans," I said suddenly. "Are there any nursery rhymes about wind and water?"

"Um... I, uh...." He looked back at Wulf, who was favoring his left hind leg. The white thing snapped at him with huge teeth. With a start, I realized the bright white thing was actually a humongous dog. Then I noticed Hans staring at the fight, mouth agape. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "Oh! Um...

"_When water sprites dance on winter air,_

_Welcome rain, sleet, and snow._

_When the sun rises in spring time,_

_Winter weather must go._

"Not a nursery rhyme, but-"

The sound of a horn interrupted him. We both looked around. Gaspard stamped his hoof and snorted, his eyes rolling. The voice in my heart was back, urging me to hurry.

"Wind and water meet... rain, sleet, or snow. No warmth... so not rain. A tiny crystal, perfect in form. Ice? No... swarming like the bee... ice doesn't swarm...."

"Snow does!" Hans cried. My heart leapt. "Snow flurries look like a swarm of bees. That's why snowflakes are called...."

"Snow bees...." I whispered. "_Swarming like the bee, but no warmth there is to see!_ The answer is snowflakes!"

From what seemed very far off, I heard something like a set of wind chimes tinkling. And in front of me, a line of silver reached up from the ground and shot into the sky as Wulf howled. Despite the beam of silver shining in front of my face, I turned back towards the fight and saw the white dog on its side, panting, its muzzle and flanks dark with blood... and limping toward me, tail erect and head high, was Wulf.

"The gate is open," the golden hart said as Wulf drew level with us. "Go through."

"What about you?" I asked. He was still frightened - the whites of his eyes stark against the night-leeched blackness. And the howls and yips weren't just coming, they were already here. Over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a writhing, roiling mass of white that I knew was the pack. And behind them, a silver horse with a black-enshrouded rider. I knew in my heart he was the Huntsman.

"I will be well. I can run fast, when not leading little humans. Go on. Thank you for the scratch."

"Don't mention it," Hans replied, and we squeezed through the slim opening between the glass gates as Gaspard galloped away into the dark.


	9. 8 The Glass House

**Chapter Eight**

**The Glass House**

We collapsed in the tall grass, or rather, Hans sank to his knees and half-dropped me to the ground. Wulf simply threw himself down and tried to catch his breath. I could see blood matting his thick fur over his shoulder, his flank, and his eye. One paw was swelling. A chunk of his nose was missing, and his muzzle was scored by four parallel gashes - the dog's claws. I reached out and touched one silky ear. He whined deep in his throat and licked my arm.

"You look awful," I whispered, my skin cold with fear. Was he going to die? But no, he was limping, and bloody, but that was all. His eyes were too bright and alert for death to be anywhere close by. "Can you walk?"

He gave me a look that might have scoured a grease pot clean. I knew what he meant - that it was foolish of me to ask about his welfare when I couldn't even stand up without help. My ankle was no longer painful, but Scarlet had said to ride and keep off of it as much as possible for a full week from the day we left her cottage.

How in the world was I supposed to-

"Whoa."

At Hans' breathless murmur of wonderment, I looked away from Wulf's crystal blue eyes and realized we were actually in the Garden of the Golden Lilies. No wonder it had enchanted glass walls around it so you couldn't see inside. If thieves knew what lay within these walls, surely they would... well.

The grass we were all resting on wasn't green. At least, it wasn't green the way most grass was green. Every little emerald blade glittered like green crystals in the light. When I licked my finger and stroked one, it hummed like glass. And the flowers... all around us were lilies of the valley, white lilies, maiden lilies that looked like young girls' dresses; spring lilies, lily plum bushes with their purple-edged leaves, little white flowers, and oblong violet fruits; calla lilies, rainbow lilies, and lily roses.

Now, about the lily plums. You've heard me mention thumb plums and winter plums before. Kuetas grows a lot of plums. It's our biggest export, or so my father once told me. Our country makes the best plum cider, plum cordial, plum sauces. And we grow the most varied and unique looking plums in the world - thumb plums, whose fruits are no bigger than a thumbnail; winter plums, which look like they're made out of ice; lily plums, which grow on bushes instead of trees; rose plums, which can only be found in the hearts of the purple and red roses they ripen in. It is even said that in the orchards of Castle Kuetas grow a plum that looks as if it is made out of diamonds and spun sugar - the legendary sugarplums, which are said to grant immortality. I didn't know if that was true, or even if they existed, because I'd never seen one. But plums were the business of Kuetas.

The only plums found in this garden, however, were lily plums. But these were no ordinary lily plums, either. The leaves, edged in purple, looked as if they were made of colored glass. The lilies sparkled like diamonds, and the fruits themselves shone like pale violet jewels.

Everywhere we looked, the plants around us glittered crystal bright.

As we were absorbing the brilliant sights around us, we realized that the darkness of the night had drifted away as we crossed the threshold of the gate. It was now a strange, misty twilight, the sky a faint purple tinged with tangerine and pink. Stars shone faintly like dying candle lights. I couldn't tell if it was dawn or dusk, and neither Hans nor Wulf changed in the least bit as we all got up and began to move again. Hans had to carry me, as Wulf was in no shape to bear my weight.

"How do you know where we're going?" I asked Hans, voice barely audible. As the fear of the Huntsman's dogs and the awe of our surroundings receded from my body, exhaustion took their places. I simply wanted to sleep, but I didn't dare yet. "How do you know we're heading towards the West Wind?"

"I don't," he said. "I'm following the path."

"What path?" I asked, and looked around, curiosity renewing my energy for the moment. When my eyes found the ground beneath Hans' feet, I saw what he meant, for under his bare toes was a glittering path the color of the full moon. How I had missed it before, I didn't know.

After that, there was silence. I was so tired, I didn't mind. What was there to say? Hans needed all of his energy to bear my weight, for I wasn't the lightest person in the world by any stretch; Wulf could not speak in his beast form, and I was far too tired to even move my lips, much less speak coherently. But I felt bad for Hans. When would I be able to walk again?

Finally, we all grew so tired that Hans tripped and stumbled, nearly dropping me. I told him to lie down before he fell down. For once, he actually listened. Wulf followed suit. I settled down as well. The grass, though diamond-like in appearance, was as soft as the meadow around my father's house. It even smelled the same, sweet and earthy and wet.

"Are you tired?" He asked me.

"Yes. You?"

"Yeah."

Then I heard the tinkling chime sound again and sat up. Where had it come from? For as far as I could see - which wasn't far past the rainbow lily vines on their trellises - there was nothing but the crystalline growth all around us. But I could have sworn I heard laughter....

_"From the white that is unbroken_

_I am a road of seven paths_

_When the sunlight streaming after_

_Touches earth's springtime baths."_

The tinkling voice jingled and jangled like tiny silver bells. I looked around wildly but saw nothing. Wulf tried to rise to his feet. It required a monumental effort. Hans scanned the growth around us, searching for the speaker.

"Answer my riddle, and I will take you somewhere safe," the voice said.

"Aren't the gardens safe?" I demanded, alarmed. These gardens were right outside the doors of Castle Kuetas, which was apparently surrounded by the enchanted walls too, as I hadn't seen it in that vast field.

"Safe, yes, but not cozy. I will take you to the Glass Queen."

"But we need to speak to the West Wind," Hans called. "It's important that we see the Lady Westernesse. Her brother the Lord Eastern sent us. We bring her a gift."

"Answer my riddle and you will see whom you seek."

I glanced at Hans, feeling my weariness protesting violently. More riddles? Surely we were all too exhausted to deal with mind games like that. But we needed to see the West Wind....

"What's the riddle again?" I asked the invisible voice. It was difficult to keep my crossness from my voice. But this could possibly be a type of Faery, and I didn't want to offend him... her... it.

_"From the white that is unbroken_

_I am the road of seven paths_

_When the sunlight streaming after_

_Touches the earth's springtime baths."_

"_White that is unbroken... the road of seven paths_...." Hans muttered.

"So, the unbroken breaks into seven paths," I said. An idea was niggling at the back of my brain, but it was difficult to hold onto. I needed to think some more first.

"Is it always seven?" Hans asked.

"I think so."

"Hmmm... _when the sunlight streaming after touches earth's springtime baths._ I think...." He trailed off for a moment, looking pensive. I wondered if his head hurt. "It's saying the sunlight comes after the springtime baths."

"The sun after the rain?" I hazarded. "You know that old saying, about spring rain washing away winter."

"The sun after the rain..._ white that is unbroken... the road of seven paths..._ a rainbow!"

"A rainbow?"

"Yes," he said. "You know!"

I shook my head. I had no idea what he was talking about. The town boy sighed, exasperated.

"I showed you that one time," he said.

What one time? My face must have reflected my confusion because he continued, "With that big hunk of glass from my sister. Remember?"

"Not really, no."

"It made the sunshine into rainbow. A rainbow has seven colors."

Blank face.

"Seven colors - seven _paths_. One road, seven paths. But sunlight-"

"Has no color," I finished for him, excited now. I would never have thought of that. I still didn't remember what he was talking about, but I also knew in my heart that he was absolutely right about the answer. "White isn't a color, so...."

"Is it a rainbow?" Hans asked the invisible voice, which had been oddly silent throughout our puzzling. How many more riddles might we have to face in this garden? Practically numb with tiredness, there was no chance we could successfully answer another one.

"Indeed, indeed. How clever you children are. Very well. Hold on a moment," the voice whispered, and something cold touched my face. Before I could even turn my head to see what it was, I was asleep.

*** * ***

I awoke on a bed of glass.

As soon as consciousness returned, I jerked upright and looked around. Our three packs from Scarlet were on the floor beside the bed, along with my red cloak and my boots. Trying to push away sleep, I ran my hand through my disheveled brown hair and scrubbed at my face. We were all right... at least I was, for the moment.

With this realization, calm settled through me. I needed to look around, see where exactly I was.

It was a glass house. The walls were cloudy glass, and the floor was a glass stained so dark red it was almost brown. The ceiling overhead was black glass. The bed I was in was clear, a four-poster with curtains that glittered like they, too, were made of the glittering stuff, a rich, dark green that reminded me of the crystal lawn in the Garden of the Golden Lilies.

Strange, we'd seen plenty of lilies, but no golden ones, so why was it....

With a shake of my head, I shrugged off the question. It wasn't important.

I got out of bed and went to put on my boots when I noticed my splint was gone. My ankle had nearly returned to its original size. The bruises were only green and blue now, not black and purple, as they had been at Scarlet's cottage. Perhaps I could walk on it.

Carefully, I stood up, putting nearly all my weight on my good leg. Well, so far, so good. Taking a deep breath, bracing myself for the pain that I knew would come, I began to put pressure on my other foot.

The pain that shot up my leg was nothing close to crippling. I could walk, if I favored my bad ankle. No more having to ride on my friends' backs. No more being carried around like a sack of potatoes when the lads needed all their energy for themselves. I could walk... a little.

With this in mind, I put on my boots and left my glass room, anxious to find the others. Luckily, it wasn't that hard.

My door did not lead to a hallway, as I had expected. It led outside. Shocked, I looked around, wondering where on earth the rest of the glass house could possibly be. I'd never heard of a house with only one room that didn't at least have a fireplace and a kitchen of some kind. There was only that great, glass bed inside, which was hardly practical for a one-room house.

Then I noticed that there were several little glass houses, identical to the one I had just left, all around me. And lying in front of the door of one, head resting on his huge, russet paws, was a shape I recognized immediately - Hans!

I limped over to him as quickly as I could, stopping only twice to rest and ease the tightness in my bad leg and the wobbly feeling in my good one. I had not truly walked in almost a week. My muscles had grown weak in that time.

"Hans!" I cried, grinning like a fool, and tried to sit down beside him. Unfortunately, all I managed was to introduce my face to the ground. But suddenly there were familiar hands helping me to sit up, and I looked into the clear, blue eyes of Wulf.

He still looked awful, but nowhere near as bad as I'd expected. There were tiny, black stitches on his bare left foot and the bridge of his nose, and bandages at his neck, and around his torso and one upper arm. A nearly black bruise flowered on the side of his face. However, he didn't look pale or thin, and he wasn't sweating. The leather cord with its green stone - which now glowed faintly - was nestled against his chest. Someone had taken good care of him while I was asleep.

"Get enough beauty sleep?" He asked, grinning. One of his front teeth was chipped. It must have been from his fight with the white dog.

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled. I'd slept for a night. That wasn't so long.

"You've been asleep for nearly a week," Wulf replied, still smiling, but his expression slipped when horror stole over my face like a shadow. Ice clutched my chest tightly. A week! I'd slept for a week! My brothers, our quest... a whole week wasted....

"Marzipan, what's wrong?"

"Whose house is this? Who rules here? I have to see them now! We have to get going, we've wasted so much time, we have to-"

"Peace, young Marzipan," said a chiming, silvery voice. I turned to see, standing only a dozen paces away, a woman with long, blond hair in a braid hanging over her shoulder and eyes like gray stone. Her skin was the whitest I had ever seen, nearly transparent, and her dress glittered with a thousand beads. "All is well. You must stay with me another day, and then you may go on your way. Understand?"

"No! I need to go now!"

"And would you go to the Faery of the Silver Orchards with nothing to recommend you? Looking like a stray ragamuffin and her companions, a country boy and a beast, you would go before the Regent of our country to ask her to interfere in something as trivial as the saving of a handful of country children, when our ruler is vanished and the war with the rat demons begins to spill over into even the furthest reaches of Kuetas? Surely you, Marzipan, riddle master and wolf rider, know better than this."

My heart sank. She was right, whoever she was, though I hated to admit it. Her words hit me like slaps to the face. There was cold condescension in her tone, so icy it burned me. I had to say something. I couldn't just stand here, blood flooding my face and turning it bright red, saying nothing.

"People, commoners, have gone before the Regent without summons before," I managed to get out from between my clenched teeth. "I need nothing to recommend me. The Regent is the caretaker of Kuetas while the Prince is away. Her duty is to see to the kingdom and its people. My brothers and I are some of its people. It is her job to take care of us when we cannot, and it is my right to demand she do it. I don't know the first thing about magic, other than that it's everywhere and then some. I can't break this spell on my brothers on my own. But what I can do is find someone who knows more than me who's willing to help."

Strength flowed into me as my convictions returned. It was the truth - the ruler of a country had an obligation to care for its people. The Regent may not want to see me, but I _would_ see her. Nothing this woman or anyone else could say could stop me. My brothers needed help. I would find a way to help them.

"If the Regent won't help me, I'll go to the Prince's uncle. He knows about magic, too. I don't know where he is, but someone in Kuetas has to. If the Regent won't listen to me, I'll go to him, and...."

A soft clapping stopped my words. I looked up from the ground at which I'd been staring so fiercely and found the gray-eyed woman looking at me almost... admiringly. Her pale hands stopped clapping, and she smiled, shaking her head. The expression on her face was rueful. Confusion warred with curiosity in the pit of my stomach at the sight. What was she thinking about?

"Hans and Wulf were right," the lady said. "You are a stubborn one. Some would say foolhardy, but I say determined. I admire determination in young people. It's rare, but it's needed in Kuetas these days. Well... still, one day is required, Marzipan. I'm sorry for this, for I know your heart would have you with the West Wind and well away. But there are things you need to know, and things I need to give you, and all is not yet ready. You will leave after nightfall, when Master Wulf is again a beast. So, come and have lunch with me. You've slept a long time. I expect you're hungry."

At her words, my stomach rumbled loudly. Wulf laughed. My face flushed again. With the help of my companion, I made it to my feet, and we followed the lady towards another of the glass houses.

This house was larger than the others, two stories whereas the others had all been one. The glass was clouded, like the other houses, but it was also a different color, a pale yellow like fresh milk in summer. It glittered like a million tiny jewels, reflecting the sun. The door was a deeper color, dark bronze, with a thousand reflective surfaces that caught glimmerings of green and crimson light, making the tiny sparks dance. The lady led us inside.

The room we entered was enormous, the roof seeming to tower over my head. Wulf didn't seem to care. Hans nudged my hand with his nose. I crept forward, shrinking in on myself. This was too much splendor for me. In the little glass house, I'd been too concerned with the whereabouts of my companions to care about how rich everything was here. But now, sandwiched between my friends and this tall, cold woman, the sheer opulence crashed down on me like a wave. My teeth sank into my tongue to keep from saying anything. I didn't want to sound stupid.

The lady - I did not know her name, I realized suddenly - sat us at a table of dark brown crystal. There were porcelain plates painted with silver snowflakes, gold lilies, and glittering, white roses, and cups to match. The knives were bone white porcelain, too. And in the center of the table, in a clear, crystal basket, were white rolls freshly made, thumb plums and lily plums, winter plums and summer plums with their golden sheen, and little round cheeses. The interior of the crystal carafe beside the basket was white with what looked like fresh milk. There was even still some froth on the top. And on a large, porcelain serving dish were slices of cold ham and mutton.

"Does this suit you?" The woman asked us.

"Yes!" I cried, my hunger making me forget my surroundings. Suddenly it felt as if there were a giant hole inside my belly.

"Yes!" Wulf said.

Hans gave a sort of half bark, which I assumed meant yes and which made the lady laugh.

"Then, help yourselves. I will let you vanquish the edge of your hunger before I tell you what you need to know."

Neither of us needed to be asked twice.

It was only when the first bite of ham touched my lips that it fully hit me that not only had seven days passed, but that I hadn't eaten the entire time. How had I been kept alive? Without food or water, surely I would have starved in my sleep. Then I shrugged it off. This place was obviously fraught with magic. Stranger things had happened.

For a moment, my eyes saw Scarlet again, and her silvery blond hair, which often looked ruffled, like duck feathers. Did magic have a lasting effect? Did it always change you? And would I notice if it had changed me at all?

But this was too much for me when I was so hungry. Instead of pondering further when I would only frustrate myself, Wulf and I drank cup after cup of milk. We ate so many slices of meat, we weren't sure there would be enough room left for the bread and fruit, but there was. The rolls were crisp and golden on the outside, and soft and white on the inside. The plums were juicy and sweet. But finally, we managed to slow down enough to listen to the lady who had so generously fed us both.

"You seek the Faery of the Silver Orchards, the Lady Pamela of Viol Province. Truth?"

We nodded.

"Then you have come to the right place, for no one may see the Regent without first seeing her majordomo, Lady Krysta of Vryst. Do you know who that is?"

I shook my head. Wulf munched meditatively on a bright red thumb plum, pausing only to spit out the pit before popping in another one.

"Lady Krysta is the Prince's cousin, the King's niece. She is from the country of Aunders, the island country to the north. She's the second youngest of four and was sent here because she wished to marry the King's Master Windwaker."

I stared. A windwaker was a weather mage. Generally, they lived in the mountains, where they had access to snow and rain, winds and storms, so that they could practice their magic. But the King's Windwaker had a particular job - in times of famine or drought, it was up to him and the other royal mages to keep the people of Kuetas from starving. I hadn't known, though, that the King's Windwaker had married a princess from another land! The King's niece, no less.

"Lady Pamela and Lady Krysta are good friends. And when Pamela travels around Kuetas, in the Vryst Mountains one is never without the other. Krysta will test you hard before she lets you pass on to the Regent. Too many attempts have been made on Pamela's life in recent months."

"Someone tried to kill the Regent?" Wulf cried. "Who?"

"The Rat King," I said absently, thinking. My head was starting to hurt. Rubbing my temples, I added, "It only makes sense for him to do it. Who else could get to us? We're surrounded by water. But the rat demons don't like us."

"True, Marzipan," said our hostess. "Very true. Ever since the War of the Pearls when the King's grandfather slew the Queen of the Rats, the demons have hated our rulers and their people. We earned their enmity for fighting on behalf of the King of Aunders. They sailed in their ships to our shores and have never left. Nor will they until the Prince and the twelve princesses are found."

For a moment, the lady seated with us sounded so wistful and forlorn, I wanted to reach out and hug her. But she was quite obviously noble, and I was just a common shepherd's daughter. There would be no embrace from me.

"Well," she said, shaking her head as if to clear away her melancholy. "But that is not the point. Because of the increase in the attacks on our Regent, Krysta is hard and can sometimes be very cold. I think at times that living in Vryst has turned her heart to ice. If you are to be successful, you will need what I am going to give - a letter of recommendation."

Both Wulf and I perked up at his.

"Sorry if I sound rude, Queen Ilean," Wulf murmured, "but why would a letter from you do us any good?"

"Because," the lady said, "Krysta is my sister. And the Snow Queen and the Glass Queen have always trusted each other. She will heed my words, so long as you do not lose this letter. But Krysta is not your only test. Lady Claire and Lady Loraine will want to test you, as well. Be careful, then. Krysta's test will be easy. A riddle, only. You three are good at riddles," she added, smiling warmly. "But Claire... she has been in a vindictive mood ever since her dear Polichinelles were-"

"The Polichinelles!" Wulf cried, then poked me in the ribs. I squeaked. "Marzipan, remember what Lily said? About the Polichinelles!"

I gasped. In all that had happened, I had forgotten the fate of the daughters of Lady Claire.

"Lily the Witch trapped them in gingerbread cages," I said swiftly, lest something else were to occur and I were to forget all over again. "The woman who cursed my brothers, she trapped the Polichinelles with baker's magic. I don't know where, but I heard her say so."

Wulf nodded vehemently.

"As did I."

For a moment, I thought the Glass Queen was going to strike one of us. A strange, pink flush flooded her pale face. Her gray eyes darkened to razor sharp steel. Wulf and I didn't dare move a muscle. The short, well-kept fingernails tapped on the crystal table like a clock ticking. Then, she relaxed and sighed deeply, as if grieved.

"Gingerbread cages. Well, then... it seems you have your means of getting past Claire after all. Tell her this, and answer her riddle. With the information you have, the stakes of her question will not be so dangerous, I think. But it will still not be easy. Be warned of that. And Loraine... I do not know how you will fair against her. She is wild and unpredictable, and even I can offer you no wisdom on the subject.

"But now I have something to tell you that might affect the outcome of your quest."

At this, my companion and I forgot our food and leaned in, dread in our hearts. What could she possibly have to say to us that made her look so grave and sound so sorrowful?

"Pamela will not know how to break the curse on your brothers that keeps them in the form of swans, Marzipan. More than that, even if she did have the knowledge, she would not be able to do it. Neither would Lord Meier, the Prince's uncle."

No.

No, that was impossible. It couldn't be. Lily had said... I was so sure... the voice in my heart had never hinted... there could be no way... but then... how was I to save them? How was I to save them if neither the Regent nor the Prince's uncle could?

"But... but...."

It was all I could say before this wrenching pain filled my chest and I began to cry. I felt stupid, ridiculous. Yet, I also knew what despair tasted like. While I had been searching for the Regent, I had known what to do. Get to Mount Scaelos. Get help. That was all. How to get there? Find the East Wind, and he would lead us in a round from West to South to North, and the North Wind would take me where I needed to go. But now... now....

"What do we do, then?" Wulf asked. His voice sounded hoarse, as if only sheer will kept him from breaking down as I had. I could see a vague outline of his face through my tears. It was pale as death.

"Pamela does have one unique skill - she can make friends with nearly anyone, so long as evil and darkness does not control their hearts. And she is the only person I know of who is on visiting terms with the Toymaker. If you want powerful magic, magic that can break the curses on your brothers, and Hans - and yourself, Wulf - then you and your friends must get to the Clockwork Hall and beg his help. And only Lady Pamela knows the way."

"The Toymaker?" I asked tremulously. My chin quivered, but I bit my tongue, refusing to shed anymore tears. Here was hope, then. I needed to calm down, right this minute. Breathing deep, my body relaxed.

"Yes. You've heard that at the peak of Mount Scaelos resides a seer and sorceress?"

We both nodded.

"What most do not know is that it is not a sorceress, but a sorcerer. The Toymaker is the most powerful wizard in Kuetas. He created the glass walls of Castle Kuetas, and he is the one who built the Royal Navy and the Royal Army with its clockwork wooden and metal soldiers. He has great and powerful magic, and he loves Kuetas. He especially loves the royal family, and his affection for them will work in your favor. This Lily the Witch has not only cursed your brothers, but the daughters of Lady Claire and Lord Meier. The Toymaker will be most angry. Use this to your advantage."

I nodded, not sure I understood but too confused and upset to articulate what half-formed thoughts I might want to let out. Wulf reached over and squeezed my hand. The feel of the grit and dirt on his hands, so familiar, comforted me.

"So we go to Mount Scaelos as planned," Wulf murmured. "All right, then. Thank you, milady, for this advice."

"Dear boy, you remind me of a friend of mine from when I was a child. For this reason, and for the help you've given to my husband, I've helped you. And for this reason, both of you - and Hans as well - will always be welcome in my house. Now, I must write that letter to my sister, and you must all pack. I've outfitted your packs and given you new clothes. I've included something more formal for your audience with the Toymaker and with Pamela. And you, Marzipan, have a gift waiting in your room.

"Go on, now, both of you. Scat."

We scatted. I was too preoccupied at the time with the idea of her giving me a gift to realize that she'd mentioned a service I'd done to her husband, whom I had never met before.


	10. 9 Wisdom of the West

**Chapter Nine**

**Wisdom of the West**

There _was_ a gift in my room, but Hans had to escort me back there first. I got lost in the maze of glass houses and couldn't find it. So Hans led me back to what I recognized as _my_ glass house. I could tell it was mine because there was an almond sapling growing near the front door in a pale blue porcelain flower pot painted with little, white sheep.

I glanced at Hans, who made the whuffing sound that meant he was laughing at me. Ignoring him, I opened the door and went inside.

Something leaning against the bed caught my eye. Walking over to it, I picked it up gingerly and looked it over. It was a walking stick. And what was really odd - and what made it odder still was the fact that I thought it was odd to begin with - the staff was _not_ made of glass, but almond wood stained nearly black. There were images etched into it, the grooves of the pictures stained bright silver so that they shone. The etchings seemed almost... patchwork, like a quilt burned into wood. Each little square held a different picture: a tower, a silver plum, a broom, three tear drops, a key... more than a hundred images, all told.

I didn't know what to make of it, but it certainly was beautiful.

At the top was a four-pointed star, with strange markings at each point. When I took it outside to show Wulf, he told me what it was.

"That's a compass rose," he told me. "It shows the four directions. These are letters," the boy added, pointing at each. "That's N, for north. S, for south. W for west and E for east."

Surprised, I studied the marks, memorizing them. N. North. S. South. W. West. E. East. I looked up at the black haired boy beside me, my heart in my mouth. I knew four letters. I didn't know how many letters there actually were, but I knew four of them. Me, a shepherd's daughter - I could read four letters. It probably didn't seem like much to Wulf, who could read already, but it meant the world to me.

"Well, I'm packed," he added after the silence had stretched between us forever. He shifted uncomfortably. "Are you ready?"

"I never unpacked anything. And these aren't the clothes I fell asleep in, so I'm guessing they're clean." I indicated the red shirt and brown trousers. The only thing familiar about the outfit I wore was the brown vest with the roses, the thin iron chain around my neck, and my boots, which now fit since I no longer wore the splint on my ankle. Patting the big rucksack next to me, I added, "The Queen put Scarlet's bundles in this pack, so it'll be easier to carry."

Scarlet's red cloak was folded up neatly on top of our little cloth bundles in the rucksack.

"Great," Wulf said. "Well, we should probably sleep. If the West Wind is anything like the East Wind, we won't be able to sleep while riding her tonight."

"Yeah, probably not."

This was how I found myself, after a week of sleep, dozing on a bed made of glass, waiting for my time to ride on the back of the West Wind.

*** * ***

The Glass Queen escorted Hans and me, with Wulf loping beside us, back to the Garden of the Golden Lilies. Still rubbing the sleep from our eyes, with the black wolf yawning hugely, we stumbled along the moon-white path of glass until we reached a lake. It wasn't a very big lake. In fact it was only just big enough to be a lake at all, instead of a pond. The water was clear as glass, with nary a ripple, and floating on the surface were green crystal lily pads with golden flowers blooming in their centers. Each tiny golden petal gave off faint amber light, barely brighter than a glowworm in the night darkness.

In the tall, glittering grass on the far side of the lake, four white swans slept with their heads under their wings. Around their necks were bronze chains.

Beyond them, sleeping on a bench made of copper glass, was the West Wind.

Her copper hair spilled around her bare shoulders, which were the color of red earth at dawn. From her neck to her ankles, she was dressed all in purple - purple tunic, red-violet vest, and purple trousers with flared at the hip but cinched tight at the ankle. I had never seen such clothes. And on her feet - such little feet! - were a pair of copper shoes with pointed toes.

The Glass Queen nudged me, and I hastily pulled out the little bag of coffee as somewhere in the distance, wind chimes began to dance and the Winter Star appeared in the night sky.

We watched with nary a sound between us as the West Wind sat up slowly without opening her eyes, stretching her thin arms high over her head. I could hear her draw in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Finally, she opened her eyes and I met her liquid gold gaze.

Hastily, I dropped my eyes.

"And who are these, Queen Ilean de Glass, that you have brought to me before I have even had a chance to dance this night?"

With my lowered gaze, I saw the Queen's dark blue skirts studded with glass beads sweep over the grass as she took a few steps forward. Then, with a laugh in her voice, the Glass Queen replied, "My apologies, West, but I knew that given a choice between dancing or coffee, you would choose the coffee, a treat I can rarely afford to offer you."

At this, I heard the West Wind's swift intake of breath. The mention of coffee had attracted her interest. Without looking up, I held out the bag to her.

It wasn't that I was afraid of her golden eyes, the same color as Queen Ilean's hair and Gaspard's fur. But you see, if felt like they seemed to burn me. Not in a painful way, but still, it felt strange to meet her gaze. It was as if she could see into my heart, a feat I could not even manage on my own. I couldn't explain why this bothered me, but it did.

Two tiny, golden slippers appeared in my line of sight. Two slippers which curled up at the tips, ending in little, bronze bells. A slender, dark brown hand reached up and touched my face. I felt my chin being forced up.

Trying not to flinch, I looked into the West Wind's eyes.

For several long minutes, there was silence. My chest hurt. Was I breathing? I wasn't sure. Part of me didn't want to draw in the same air as this being. She was nothing like East, who was funny and sweet-natured. This woman, this Faery creature, was staring at me with such intensity I could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks. But try as I might, nothing I did could get my eyes to look away from hers for even a single moment. I was well and truly mesmerized.

"This one will go far," the Wind said softly. Her voice was like the tinkling of bells and the swishing of soft fabrics. "She has a destiny, though nothing as great as the maiden yet to come. She is the last of the Five before that maiden appears, a proud calling. Her name is Marzipan, and it suits her. Beauty, subtlety, strength, sweetness, wonder. Girl, you are stronger than you think and wiser than you know. If it is in your power to break the curses on the men in your heart, you will find a way. There will be blood, and there will be ice, but this is not necessarily bad and could in fact be good, so do not fear it.

"I can see that you need to travel, and wind-back is the fastest way. In exchange for the beans you offer, I will carry you to my sister, for she is the only one who can go so far as the Vryst Mountain Range. It does not abide in my lands."

"Thank you," I managed to choke out, though the words seemed to scorch my throat. Her eyes held me fast.

Then, mercifully, she looked away, releasing me.

"You, boy. Come here."

Hans came forward, and the West Wind trapped his gaze this time. Sympathy welled up for my friend. Looking at her was very uncomfortable.

My brain tried to make sense of the things she'd said, but they were jumbled up and confused by my nervousness and her nearness. One thing, however, struck me like a closed fist - the thing about my name. Beauty, subtlety, strength, sweetness, and wonder. Scarlet had said those exact words to me. What did that mean?

"Power runs in your blood, but it burns in your sister's veins," the Faery creature said to Hans. "Danger has come upon you more than once already. There are three wooden houses in the Mandias Forest, and two of them you know. Shy of the green door but bitten by the red, a witch's meal you shall not be but a wolf... perhaps forever. If your sister's magic and the child at your side cannot break this curse, no power in the world can do so. But nothing will stop the girl you hold in your heart - not chains of love or chains of magic. Be grateful."

"Four spells war within you, wolf," the Wind said then, looking at the black beast at my side. He cocked his head, eyes bright, and I knew he understood her. "The fourth is hidden even from you. But I sense the love in your heart for the caster, even though you don't remember her, and this magic will not harm you. It seeks to protect you in any way it can. I don't know who laid it, but they knew what they were about. This spell... it seems familiar to me, the scent of the magic... chocolate and sugar and cream... metal and oil... but my memory is not what it used to be. I'm old, and I have forgotten more things than the oldest mortal ever knew.

"Now," and she took the bag of coffee finally. "We go."

I had enough time to take hold of the leather cord around Wulf's neck with one hand before the West Wind grabbed Hans and I and we were snatched up by a whirlwind, blackness closing around us like a fist until I was lost to the world.


End file.
